


I Want You Close, I Want You Closer

by mendeshoney



Category: Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Italian Mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 14:09:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16874322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mendeshoney/pseuds/mendeshoney
Summary: You and Shawn are from warring mafia families. You most certainly are not Romeo and Juliet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is loosely based on a dream I had one night where Shawn was suddenly the baddest mofo in the world and it turned into this mess.

What should have been cause for concern, and definitely a call to the police, or maybe even your father, instead became a burst of confidence within your stomach as you realized what it all meant.

You had just gotten back from the airport after spending a week in Genoa with family, so you weren’t really paying attention to your surroundings at all when you pulled into the driveway of your Long Island home.

Well, mansion, really, but that’s what you get for being the daughter of Angelo DeLuca, New York’s most wanted and richest crime boss.

Still in a post flight haze, you had just gotten out of the shower, lounging around naked in your room as you first moisturized your legs, then the rest of your body before you settled against the pillows, curtains open to welcome in the light and warmth from the sunset.

Unashamed and unconcerned (at first,) you lightly ran a finger across your belly, the other hand moving up to cup your breasts, squeezing every now and again. The hand on your belly travelled lower as you opened your legs, spreading your wetness around before rubbing circles on your clit, sighing in relief. It had been too long since you’d had sex with someone, so nights like these were happening more often.

The house next to yours, whose master bedroom had perfect view of your own with both windows open, had been unoccupied for over a year, so you weren’t worried whatsoever about being caught, or spied on.

Little did you know.

You didn’t notice the all black Jeep in the driveway next to yours when you pulled in, didn’t notice as you strolled through your bedroom that the master bedroom of the house next to yours now had furniture in it, or that there was in fact, also a person in the room.

You shut your eyes as you slipped a finger inside, slowly pumping in and out, twisting your hardened nipples and letting out a quiet moan. You press the heel of your palm into your clit, arching off of the bed at the added pressure and it doesn’t take much until you’re coming, letting out a breathy moan, butt arching off the bed, head thrown back and eyes squeezing shut.

After taking a minute to yourself, you sigh, settling in the covers as sleep begins to approach. It’s when you finally open your eyes, meaning to check your phone when you notice a glittering reflection on your ceiling. You tilt your head, curious as to where it could be coming from, and your eyes follow it around the room, and out the window…

…And into the master bedroom next door.

It’s there that you see there’s a young man, resting in a chair that’s been pulled to sit a few feet in front of the massive window. He’s shirtless, clad in grey sweatpants and even from the spot on your bed you can see he’s hard. His elbows are on his knees, silver necklace dangling from his neck, a few silver rings on his fingers, all of his jewelry catching light from the sun and casting reflections in your window.

Your initial thoughts are shock, embarrassment, and anger - who does this pervert think he is?

At your attention, he runs a hand through his curly hair and leans back in his chair, allowing you to catch a glimpse at what appears to be a toned torso, crossing his arms over his chest and licking his lips.

_Bastard._

He looks right at you when he uncrosses his arms after a moment, clapping three times, as if to mock you.

That’s when you decide you’ve had enough.

You slowly rise from your bed, hair settling behind you as you saunter over to the window, allowing him one last look.

When you reach the glass, he stands, approaching his own window and its as he raises his right hand to place on the window that you see a swallow tattoo, and you gasp slightly. You look to his face then, recognition setting in as it appears in the light of the sunset that his identity is revealed to you.

_Shawn Mendes._

He’s a New York socialite more than anything, only recently interested in any kind of philanthropy, and you’ve seen his face all over social media, magazines, newspapers, gossip sites - but you know him from a more personal place.

Son of Manuel Mendes, mob boss Manuel Mendes, your father’s sworn enemy.

And now his son was your new neighbor.

You shut the curtains without another word, heart pounding in your chest.

-

When you head out for dinner the next night, having spent the day purposefully sleeping and avoiding opening the curtains at all, Shawn’s car is already gone, and it gives you a slight hope of regaining your dignity as you pull out of your own driveway, heading into the city to meet up with Hailee and Jourdan, your best friends.

Though, you don’t know why you’re so keyed up, because it’s not like Shawn knows who you are. It’s not like anyone knows who you are, or rather, who your father is. Angelo DeLuca, to the crime families of New York, has three unidentified children and a wife. You and your siblings have your mother’s maiden name at your father’s insistence to protect you, keep you safe from other warring families. So Shawn definitely has no clue that you’re the daughter of his father’s most hated rival.

You try to shake the thought as you enter the restaurant, giving your name to the hostess who escorts you toward the back and the VIP section, where Hailee is already sat with Jourdan, and there is another person at the table, whose back is facing you, but when Hailee and Jourdan stands to greet you, so do they, turning to face you and immediately their face lights up, then darkens at the same time, a smirk playing on familiar lips.

Not one to be challenged, or tested, you hold your head high and put on an innocent smile, thankful that you chose to wear your Louboutins and the strapless bodycon dress you just bought - your new favorite power outfit.

Hailee calls your name, bringing attention to the new guest as she introduces you, then tells you “This is my friend Shawn, from school. Shawn, this is my best friend.”

Shawn smiles wickedly, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

The double meaning doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You also don’t miss the way his eyes roam your body, and you respond by doing the same. Giving his tall and broad frame a once over, smiling appreciatively.

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

The four of you sit down, placing orders for wine, whiskey ginger for Shawn, and your meals, conversation light and entertaining as the night progresses.

Hailee’s three glasses in when she asks “So, how’s Angelo?”

The question is directed at you, and you shrug. “He’s doing good, spoke to him when I landed last night.”

“Who’s Angelo?” Shawn asks, sipping on his drink.

“Her father.” Jourdan answers for you. “Angelo DeLuca.”

And really, you can’t blame them for…well, anything. 

Hailee and Jourdan are socialites themselves, you recently blending into their world. They thought your father was just CEO of DeLuca Investments, no clue that at night he became the city’s most threatening crime bosses. They probably assumed the same of Shawn’s father.

So it’s no surprise that Shawn raises his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware he had a daughter.”

“A daughter and two sons,” You correct, downing the rest of your glass, tossing your carefully straightened hair over your bare shoulder. “We don’t carry his last name. Not exactly for witness protection, but protection in general. It allows us to live our lives while he…conducts business.”

It’s no secret now that you and Shawn are well aware of the Montague-Capulet dynamic occurring here, ritual suicide aside, but Shawn surprises you by pausing for a moment, then smiling, sneaking his hand under the table and placing it on your thigh.

“Interesting.” He says, then turns to Jourdan, asking about how her modeling is going, effectively changing the subject.

-

A sigh of relief leaves your mouth as you place your heels in your closet, thankful to feel the flat surface of your room floor. You’re also thankful to have escaped dinner relatively unscathed, beating Shawn home and managing to not alert Hailee or Jourdan to the fact that you both had already met in a rather non-traditional fashion.

However, something in your gut told you that you should expect a visit from your neighbor sooner or later, so you opted for a quick and hot shower, wrapping your robe around you and tying it securely before heading down into the kitchen and pouring yourself a glass of Moscato. 

The wine at dinner had done nothing to calm your nerves, and was definitely doing nothing now. 

You tell Alexa to play music, allowing the sounds to calm you as you sip on your glass and scroll aimlessly through your phone while waiting on your couch for the inevitable.

And twenty minutes later your doorbell echoes through your home, confirming your earlier assumption. When you open it, Shawn is clad in the grey sweatpants from the night before, and a black zip-up hoodie, his familiar smirk long gone, and replaced with a curious little smile.

“So, Romeo and Juliet are neighbors.” He says.

You roll your eyes, turning away from the door and entering your living room, throwing “Is that the best you’ve got?” Over your shoulder as you resume your place on the sofa, picking up your glass.

Shawn shuts the door behind him, leaving his shoes by the door as he joins you on the couch, his scent clouding your better judgement. You squeeze your legs together in anticipation, crossing them carefully to not give Shawn a repeat view.

“Forgive me,” He says. “It’s hard to come up with something to say when one minute you’re watching the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen please herself in bed, and the next moment, you find out that this same beautiful girl shares the blood of your father’s greatest enemy.”

Again, you roll your eyes. “You’re not forgiven. Not for spying on me, and not for that terrible opening line.”

“I’m sorry.” Shawn says. “What would you like me to say? Would you like an apology?”

“I would  _like_  to know what you’re doing here.”  _As if I don’t already know._

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to get to know you better.”

“As of the girl you spied on, your neighbor, the girl you met at dinner, or the daughter of Angelo DeLuca?” You ask, counting off on your fingers as you go.

“All of the above,” he says. “The world knows nothing about you, but I’m assuming because my identity wasn’t hidden from the world, that you know everything about me.”

“I know a few things.” You say, standing up from the couch and sauntering into the kitchen. If the two of you were going to have this conversation, you definitely needed a lot more Moscato than what you already had.

Shawn watches you pour your glass before placing the bottle back into the fridge, waits until you lean against the countertop to approach you and enter your personal space. He’s hesitant, but when he sees that you aren’t reacting or telling him to stop, Shawn places his hands inside of your robe, careful not to completely open it as you feel his fingers gripping at your hips.

“Tell me what you know.” He says quietly, almost pleading, his eyes drifting from your face, to your chest, and then back up.

“I only know what I’ve read.”

He scoffs. “Don’t believe everything you read.”

You raise a brow in challenge. “Oh? Then Rebecca Giovanni’s account about your affair in The Times last year was wrong?”

“Becca? What did she say?” The nickname he uses for her almost throws you off your confidence and makes you recoil in disdain.

_Almost._

“That you were the most passionate lover she’s had in years, ‘a god among men’ I think were her exact words.”

Shawn visibly cringes, fingers digging into your hips, pulling you closer to him. “She said that?”

“You didn’t read it?”

“I don’t read any of it.”

“Well maybe you should start.”

“And why is that?”

“Because if I recall correctly, she also said that you were a selfless lover, both in bed and out, and that you would make the next girl you decided to be with, both in a relationship, and in bed, very  _very_ happy.”

Shawn raises a brow. “Is that so?” You can see the light in his eyes, the boost to his ego. You don’t let it phase him, or you, when you ask him next,

“Is it true?”

He puffs his chest out a little when he says. “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

You place your glass down on the counter, far away enough that it won’t get knocked over, before taking one hand and unzipping his hoodie halfway, revealing bare chest underneath. You take a page out of Shawn’s book and rest your hands on his chest, trying to not visibly react in delight when you feel solid muscle.

“Well for one,” You counter. “You just told me not to believe everything I read.” He laughs at that, head bending closer to yours.

“What’s two?” He asks.

You smirk, lightly scratching at his chest and mentally patting yourself on the back when you hear the little gasp leave his lips.

_Kinky boy._

“Two is that you seem pretty selfish to me.” You say it so nonchalantly, that Shawn’s grip on your hips loosens, pulling back a little to look at your face, to see if you’re serious.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, from what I’ve observed so far, all you can do is watch.” His jaw clenches at that, and you decide to push your luck. “Seems pretty selfish to me.”

The air in the room has visibly changed, both in his body language and in the electricity in the air. Shawn says nothing to you, just continues to watch you, but you can see the gears turning in his head, deciding what he should do or say next.

You cut off his thought process when you say “Is it true?”

He thinks you’re being coy now, wants to take you over his knee and spank you for it, but he plays along, asking “Is what true?”

“That you’d make the next girl you decided to be with in bed, or in a relationship, very  _very_  happy?”

Shawn sees where this is going, his smile is back and he digs his fingers into your hips, pulls you closer, dares to lower his head and brush his lips against your neck. “I’d like to think so, yes.”

Your breath is shaky when you begin to ask “And was there-”

“Anyone else after Becca?” He interjects, tired of letting you play your games, tells you so without words when he presses himself flush against you, trapping you against the counter, his hard cock against your hip. “No. No one else. You’re the first.”

He bites down playfully on your flesh, licks over the spot and sucks before tilting his head to your ear, “You’re my next girl.”

You let out a moan, arching up into him and he growls, long fingers undoing the ties on your robe and pushing it open, hands moving across your body. “One more thing.” He says.

“What?” You manage out, trying to stay coherent over his mouth and hands on your skin.

“Becca and I never slept together.” He starts. “We’re just friends. It was a PR thing, you know, to get her in the news before her cosmetic line came out.”

You frown, “Oh.” You’re ready with an apology, feeling dumb for believing such things when you of all people should know better - when he picks you up, placing you on the counter and steps between your legs.

“I haven’t slept with anyone in awhile.” He says.

“Good to know we’re in the same boat.”

Shawn smiles at that, then sheds his zip up, making you forget your next words when he captures your mouth in a searing kiss, one that sets your skin alight with goosebumps and makes your body arch into him, tilting your head to offer him entrance if he wants it.

He does want it, briefly, his tongue gentle before he pulls back, playing with a lock of your hair. You can see he’s searching for something to say, before he drops to his knees, spreading your legs apart before placing them over his shoulders.

You moan at the sight of him, ready to come before he even touches you, when he looks up, brown eyes shining with mischief when he says “So, you know that I can  _watch._  But, do you want to see what I can  _do_?”


	2. Chapter 2

You’re trying to pay attention to what your friend, Charlotte, is saying, along with the others around you, but you can’t seem to focus. The electricity tracing up your spine and lingering on the back of your neck keeps you distracted, only nodding and “mhm”ing along. And really, this is hardly the place for a distraction like this.

It’s supposed to be a formal event, a place for New York’s most popular to meet with multiple news sources (including some unwanted gossip magazines) to discuss any philanthropic or humanitarian efforts being made. A night to prove that the money of the rich and famous isn’t going into frivolous things such as expensive cars, designer bags, or exotic trips, but is actually going back into the communities they’re part of.

Truthfully, it’s a great cause. You’ve always been a firm believer in privilege - recognizing that not everyone shares the same privilege and that with privilege comes platform, and with a platform as influential as some of the people in this room, comes great power. 

And Peter Parker be damned, but with great power comes great responsibility and it was the responsibility of everyone in this room, including yourself, to give back and use your platform to do some good.

Now, if you could just ignore the lingering stares of a specific boy long enough to remember that and actually engage in conversation and be part of this function, you’d be fine.

In truth, you do understand his…insistence on keeping his eyes on you.

Since you walked into the room, you immediately spotted him and internally slapped yourself for not anticipating his presence, but knew you couldn’t keep putting this off. You haven’t seen Shawn since that night at your place, which happened to be five days ago now. It wasn’t as bad as it seemed - it wasn’t as if you didn’t want to see him because you didn’t like him, or because you didn’t enjoy yourself.

On the contrary, you’d thoroughly enjoyed yourselves that night, and despite the circumstances, you couldn’t deny that he was growing on you.

However, that was part of the problem.

You knew that if anyone found out the two of your were together, that it would no doubt cause some sort of tension between your families. While his family had no idea who you were, if word got around to your father that you were seeing Shawn, he’d be through the roof with fury.

Which ultimately left you no choice, and so that next morning when Shawn left after you made him breakfast, you decided it would be best if you purposefully avoided him, mainly to protect him from a possible Mendes v. DeLuca problem.

And you thought, with the amount of people in this room, surely he’d be occupied in conversation about his recent work, or that there’d be at least enough bodies to keep some distance between the two of you.

But of course, because the Universe decidedly hates you, that doesn’t happen.

Soft fingers wrap around your upper arm, gently and effectively pulling you away from the group conversation, before turning you around to face them. Shawn’s there, beaming at you a little, before he slightly frowns. “Why are you avoiding me?” He asks.

You try to play coy, try to lie. “What makes you think I’m avoiding you?”

Shawn scoffs a little at your faux innocence. “Oh nothing, just the fact that you haven’t responded to my calls, or my texts, you keep the curtains drawn in your room and the lights off, and oh, you’ve actually started parking in your garage.” He says, frowning as he counts off his points on his fingers.

You match his frown with one of your own, and just as you go to respond, a chipper voice intercedes.

“Oh good! You’ve met!”

You turn to find Angela Walker, a senior editor at GQ, someone you’ve come to know in recent years. She introduces you to Shawn and vice versa to be polite, then turns to you and says “Do you remember earlier tonight, when I mentioned I wanted you to interview someone and discuss the importance of community service and social justice work?”

“Yes.” You say, hesitation evident in your voice.  _Please tell me she doesn’t mean-_

“Well this is who I was talking about! And look, you’re already friendly!”

You try not to give a tight lipped smile, hoping not to appear annoyed at the tall boy standing next to you, who seems extremely excited for himself. “That’s great, Angela.” Shawn says. “I feel more comfortable about it already.”

Angela, oblivious to your own dilemma, beams at Shawn. “I’m glad you think so! We’re trying to be less…how can I say this…materialistic? Trying to focus less on appearances and trivial things and more on the actual heart of a person. And what better way to do that than with someone whose on the same societal tier? We sort of borrowed the idea from ‘Variety’ and their Actors on Actors series on YouTube, and we wanted to translate that into New York’s youngest, best, brightest, future leaders!”

“That’s wonderful.” You say honestly. “I’m happy to be part of it.”

“Excellent! And I knew you’d both be excellent candidates.” She pauses for a moment, then frowns. “Unfortunately, none of us are able to come and supervise or mediate the interview, so-”

“That’s fine.” Shawn says. “I trust your judgement, so I trust that I’m in good hands. Only, I think it would be best to meet at my house one on one, you know, since I haven’t done an interview like this before, and I would definitely feel more comfortable there as opposed to the GQ office.”

_This little shit._

Angela is practically glowing at this point. “Oh fantastic! What a brilliant idea! I knew I could count on the both of you to pull this off. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to call my team to tell them the good news.” She hugs you both quickly, before turning on her heels, phone already to her ear.

When she’s gone and out of earshot, you turn back to Shawn, scowling. “That’s not fair.”

He raises a brow. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t trap me like that.” You explain. “That’s not how things work.”

“Well if it’s the only way that I can get you to spend alone time with me, then I’ll take it.”

“What?” You ask, incredulous. “What are you talking about?”

Shawn sighs. “You’ve been avoiding me, like I said.”

“Shawn I-”

“Was it really that terrible?”

You’re stunned. “What?”

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me, isn’t it? Because it was bad.”

“What? Shawn, no.” You shake your head, lacing your fingers with his as you pull him away from the crowd. You leave the open space and head downstairs, leading Shawn down the hall. You’re searching for an office that doesn’t have a name on the door, one that isn’t occupied, and you find it in a corner office that’s empty, sans a chair, a desk, and a couch. Shawn shuts the door behind you both, still frowning.

“Did you bring me here to let me down?” He sulks.

You sigh, shaking your head. “Is that what you think? That I’ve been avoiding you because I thought you were bad in bed?”

He shrugs, sitting himself on the couch. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

It’s cute, really, that he would assume so. If only that were the case. “No, Shawn, that’s not it. I’m sorry if I made you feel like that’s what it was. If I’m being honest, it was amazing.” At that, his face lights up, full of hope. “The sex isn’t why I’ve been avoiding you.”

Shawn frowns. “Then  _why_?”

You narrow your eyes, unsure if he’s being serious, and lean against the desk. “Did you suddenly forget who we are? How public you are and how private I am? If my father ever saw a picture of the two of us…it wouldn’t bode well. Not to mention that he and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms.”

Shawn’s quiet, clearly not on the same page.

“If my father found out, there’s no doubt he’d take it up to your father, and who knows what kind of trouble that would bring our families? Trouble neither family can afford. Both of our fathers are trying to turn over a new leaf, you know that. And I-” You lower your voice a little, looking directly at him.

“Shawn, I know that your dad recently got in trouble, and I know that the FBI is doing an internal investigation into Mendes and Associates.”

His eyes widen. “How do you know that?”

“Because my father knows, heard about it through the grapevine, and he’s worried that if the FBI is targeting you, then there’s no doubt that he’s next. And I know that if word got out about us fooling around, it wouldn’t be good publicity for your father’s company - his son off galavanting in New York with the mystery daughter of his enemy. I’m just trying to keep the peace.” You explain.

Shawn’s quiet still, but after a moment, he frowns. “Wow. We really  _are_  Romeo and Juliet.”

You roll your eyes. “No we’re  _not_!” You hiss out. “Stop saying that!”

“What? It’s true! We are, minus the negatives, we pretty much are.” He pauses. “Wait. You say you’re not on good terms with your dad. So, if you’re not, then why go through all this trouble to…well, not get him in trouble?”

You sigh. “Long story short, two years ago, my father cheated on my mother. My oldest brother, Leo, was the one who found out. He found my dad and whoever that woman was kissing in our kitchen after Leo came home early from work. It took a toll on our family. Leo shut him out, and my other brother, Mathias, moved out of the house and went to live with Leo, but me? I stuck around - more for my mother than anything else. Since then my dad’s been trying to make amends, turn his life around, use his business for good, y’know?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but Shawn nods in understanding, lets you continue. “So when I told him I didn’t want to live at home anymore, instead of letting me live with my brothers he bought me my house and my car as a way to try to make amends, but I still can’t look at him the same. My dad, he’s trying to convince me that he’s changed, and as much as I’m struggling with him, he’s the only dad I’ve got, and well, I don’t wanna see him in jail. I’m not in the lifestyle for a reason, and I’m trying to keep it that way. Which includes not getting involved in any scandals that might make him want to…act out.”

Shawn nods. “I get that.”

You blink a little. “You do?”

“Yeah. I struggled with my dad for a bit, still do, actually. I didn’t really know he was in the mafia. I found out when I accidentally went into his study when he wasn’t around. There were pictures, from a recent uh… _hit_ , and I just knew. It kinda messed me up.”

You frown, having seen similar things yourself. “How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

Your eyes widen a little. If you remember right, Shawn said at dinner the other night that he’s twenty one, turning twenty two in a couple of months. If that’s the case, then….“Wow…that’s fairly recent.”

“Yeah, and you know what the first thing I said to him was?”

“What?”

“I said, ‘But dad, we’re not even Italian!’ And I thought it was the Portuguese mafia or something.” Shawn laughs a little at that, which lets you let out a little giggle. “After that, he sent my little sister Aaliyah to boarding school and then basically told me that it was college after high school, or the business, and I chose the business…but like, the actual company, and not ‘The Family Business’, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“That’s how I got into charity work. Wow, that’s the most pretentious thing I think I’ve ever heard myself say. Let’s call it community service, shall we?” You roll your eyes, but smile at his goofiness. “My dad let me be in charge of ‘The Mendes Foundation’ when I turned nineteen, told me that my job was to donate money to whatever cause I saw fit, and I did. It’s a lot of research and a lot of dedication, but it’s worth it. And that’s where we are now as a company, trying to change. Despite the investigation, I mean.” Shawn pauses, looking down at you thoughtfully. “I’d like to think, however, if my dad found out we were dating, he’d be pretty happy for me.”

“First of all, we’re not dating. We slept together _once_.” You correct him. “And second of all, he’d only be happy because he doesn’t know who I am. The minute he finds out I’m a DeLuca he’d declare war.”

Shawn frowns. “Okay, one, we’re not dating  _yet._  And we’ve only slept together once  _so far._  And two, you said it yourself, you’re not a DeLuca - you carry your mother’s maiden name. On top of that, you said you’re not in the lifestyle.”

“I’m still a DeLuca, Shawn, if not by name then by blood. And even if I’m not in the lifestyle, I’m still complicit in the things that my family does. The same goes for you. We may not have blood on our hands, but we help clean it up and keep it a secret.”

At his silence, you take it upon yourself to walk over to the large windows of the corner office, taking a look out at the city. From up here, it should look beautiful, but you meet the bright lights and muffled noise from the streets below with a frown. You used to love this city - used to love the way that it made you feel, how big it was, how you thought the entire city was your playground, just waiting for you to become old enough to take it by the reins and run with it.

But then you grew up in it, and while there were still parts of it that you loved, the childlike wonder it once inspired was gone, marred by the dirty secrets kept by your father that came to surface at such a young age.

You wish you could look at it the way you used to.

You sigh, louder than you expected, and Shawn’s head turns to stare at your back, eyes raking up and down your silhouette.

“What’s wrong?”

You shake your head. “Nothing.” You can hear him moving off of the couch before he takes cautious steps toward you, and then one of his hands brushing your hair off of your shoulder, moving it aside as his body presses against yours, trapping you against the window. His lips meet the skin of your neck, his left hand trailing down your back before cupping the swell of your ass, his right hand coming around your front, rubbing circles on your abdomen.

Your body responds by moving into his touch, ass backing up against him, and you can hear him laugh a little. “Are you gonna let me play with you a little?”

He sounds confident now, a contrast to his mood from earlier. “And if I don’t?” You counter, turning your head slightly. Though it’s no use. Shawn can see past your facade, can tell by your body language that there’s no way you’re leaving this room without at least two orgasms.

His fingers on your belly trail down your abdomen to your thigh, where your dress meets your skin, and he makes quick work of pushing the fabric up and above your hips, gasping in delight when he goes to toy with the hem of your underwear and is met by the feeling of bare skin.

“Have you been like this all night?” He asks, voice strained, begging for the answer to be yes.

And it is. “Of course I have. This dress is far too tight for underwear of any kind.”

He raises an eyebrow in question. “So I take it that means-”

“No bra, either.”

Shawn inhales deeply, hiking the dress up further as he presses you back toward him, holding you firm against him with his right arm and you can hear him undoing his belt and zipper with his free hand. You can make out his reflection in the window, his cheeks flushed red, curls tousled and eyes hazed over like you’re getting ready for round two of the night, and not round one.

“After I fuck you right here,” he murmurs, and you can feel him lining himself up as he speaks. “I’m going to bring you home, and I’m going to eat you out on my kitchen counter before I fuck you on my dining room table. And then, I’m going to take you upstairs, run you a bath, and clean you up.” The head of his cock brushes against your folds, spreading your wetness around. “Then, you’re going to stay the night, and in the morning, I’m going to lick that pretty pussy all over again till I’ve had my fill. Then I’ll take you out to breakfast. Deal?”

You hiss out a “yes” as he slides into you, filling you to the hilt, and you shut your eyes tight in pleasure, the bright lights of the city dancing behind your eyelids as Shawn begins to fuck you against the window, not a care for anyone who may be able to see.


	3. Chapter 3

You’ve definitely get a feeling of deja vu as you try to ignore the feeling of eyes burning holes into your skin as you try to listen to Adam, your childhood best friend, talk about his recent time in Mykonos with his fiance, Gina. He’s always been a good story telling - captivating, funny, exciting, a lot like his personality - and normally you’re hanging on to every word he says, but you’re having a little difficulty with the knowledge that you’re being glared at like you should be ashamed that you’re here with him.

Not long into your meal, you saw Shawn enter the restaurant with a couple of his buddies, laughing loudly at something one of them said. He didn’t notice you until he sat down, his place at the table giving him direct view of you. You could feel the electricity in the air raise goosebumps on your arms at his presence near yours, and you tried to brush it off, tried to pretend like you didn’t know he was there.

Which, again, was difficult due to the fact that he wouldn’t stop staring at you.

Adam can sense that something’s drawing your attention, and he pauses, nudging your arm with a playful smile. “Hey, you still here? What’s on your mind?”

You scrunch your nose, giving Adam a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Just a little distracted. My uh…my neighbor is here. He keeps staring at me.”

At the mention of a man in your life, Adam raises a curious brow. “Oh? Male neighbor? Who keeps staring? Do tell.”

“He’s a Mendes.” You say first, cutting right to the chase, and Adam nods, knowing about your family’s true situation.

“But you like him.” He counters.

You frown. “Maybe?”

Adam chuckles. “You do. You actually like him. You never get flustered like this over a guy. Remember Harris?”

You visibly cringe at the mention of your most recent boyfriend who you broke up with over a year ago. “How could I forget?”

“You swore up and down you were in love with him and you paid him dust most of the time. But suddenly you’re paying attention to a  _Mendes_? What, does the kid have a big dick or something?” Adam asks, taking a sip of his wine.

You shrug, “Bigger than most, yeah.”

Adam does a spit take, getting wine all over the white table cloth and you start to giggle. It draws the attention of a few other diners around you, but it also draws the attention of Shawn, who watches you laugh from across the room. His eyes narrow, and he watches Adam laugh before excusing himself to the bathroom.

When Adam’s out of sight, Shawn excuses himself from his friends and makes his way over. You don’t see him until he’s plopped across from you, and you eye him suspiciously over the rim of your glass as you take a sip.

“Can I help you?” You ask sweetly, giving Shawn a fake smile.

He sees right through it though, crosses his arms over his chest to look intimidating. And he sort of manages, though his muscles are accentuated with the tightness of his henley and it mostly just makes you  _want_.

“Why didn’t you call me back the other day?” He asks. You didn’t mean to leave him that morning, but Hailee called and asked you to come in to the boutique, so you crept out while he was still sleeping naked in his bed, grabbing your clothes as you went and headed out.

“I went to work, Shawn.” You remind him.

“So? You can’t call me back? You left me in bed, by myself. I was hoping you were going stay, spend the morning in bed with me.”

You sigh. “As nice as that would’ve been, I had to take care of a few things.”

He nods. “Who’s the guy you’re with right now?”

“Just a friend,” you answer. It’s the truth, not a lie by any means but Shawn isn’t buying it for some reason - you can see it in the way his jaw sets in a hard line.

“Just a friend, huh?” Shawn questions. “Have you been sleeping with him too?”

You narrow your eyes at him and his accusing tone. “Well, Adam’s engaged, so no.”

“Oh.” Shawn says, realization that he jumped to conclusions all over his face. He looks ready to apologize, but you jump to it first.

“Shawn, It’s none of your business who I talk to because we’re not in a relationship.”

“But we  _are_.” Shawn says. “We’ve had sex on a pretty regular basis for about a month now, and I’m pretty sure we’ve gotten breakfast and stayed the night at least ten times so far.”

“That makes us friends with benefits at most, Shawn. We’re not in a relationship.”

“Why aren’t we?”

“Because you haven’t asked me.”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

You scoff. “No.”

He groans in annoyance, running his hand over his face. “I like you. You know this. I have feelings for you. Why aren’t you taking me seriously?”

“I am taking you seriously. But what part of ‘we can’t be together’ don’t you understand?”

“What part of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ did you not read?”

“What part did  _you_  not read? They die, Shawn. Both of them die at the end.”

Shawn frowns. “So I’m just sex to you?” You raise a brow at him and his stupid question, giving him one chance to take it back because he knows that’s not true. And he does take it back, expression softening. “Okay fine, so that’s not true. But you can’t use our family names as an excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse. It’s reality. We can have our sexual fun, but the minute it becomes romantic it becomes serious and we put our lives and the lives of our families in jeopardy.”

“You’re telling me you don’t have romantic feelings for me?”

You frown at him. “Shawn, of course I do. We’ve been over this.”

Shawn looks frazzled, but only for a moment, and then his face lights up with mischief. “Fine. Then we erase the sexual part and work on the romantic part.”

You look at him in suspicion, brow arched. “What?”

“That’s right. No more sex. For a month. No more sexual contact until you understand how important this is to me. And how important it is to you, even if you deny it.”

“None _at all_?” You say, emphasizing that this affects him too.

And Shawn catches your drift. “Okay fine, maybe not for a month, and not ‘no sexual contact at all,’ maybe just no actual fucking.”

“And how do you plan on achieving this?”

“Simple.” He says. “I’m not going to touch you. Not unless you ask me to.”

“Not at all?”

“Not at all. And even if you ask me to, I won’t fuck you until you understand that this isn’t a game to me, and that you can’t treat me like a teenage boy. Until you start taking my feelings seriously, we’re in a platonic physical contact only relationship.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright Mendes, we’ll see how long that lasts.”

“Great. Now your friend Adam’s coming back from the bathroom. Why don’t you be a good girl and introduce us?”

-

It’s two weeks later, and the sun’s just setting and you’re lounging in your robe on the couch, fifth wineglass of the evening on the table and a bowl of cut strawberries with sugar and honey in your lap when you hear keys in the door, and then Shawn’s strolling in, dressed in a black t-shirt tucked into black suit pants, his dress shoes newly shined on his feet and his silver necklace hanging in the middle of his chest. He looks enticing, incredibly so, and you’re suddenly aware of a heat that rushes straight to your core.

Shawn’s made good on his promise so far - keeping his distance and keeping his hands to himself. He only touches you if it’s slightly necessary, hugs and cheek and forehead kisses at most for affectionate contact, and other times it’s just the brush of his hands against yours, holding your hand, and the like.

He’s also been insistent on going on very cute and formal dates - bringing you out for a maximum of three to five hours before bringing you home, only accepting a kiss on the cheek at your doorstep before he heads nextdoor. He keeps his blinds closed if yours are opened, and will only text you to ask if you’re busy, or if you need anything while he’s out and about.

You’re wondering if this is how he’s like as a boyfriend, or if he’s just doing this until he thinks you’ll break.

In one hand he has a bouquet of sunflowers, and a black gift bag with red tissue paper in the other, a soft smile on his face.

“You look cozy.” He says as you get off the couch to meet him. You take the flowers with a thank you, and Shawn holds out on the gift bag, tilting his head for a kiss on the cheek, which you grant him.

“I have a feeling I won’t be in a minute. Where are we going?”

He shrugs. “Well I was hoping you’d come with me to this speakeasy. It’s low key, and I thought it’d be nice.”

You nod. “It does sound nice. What’s in the bag?”

Shawn smiles. “Just a little something I saw in a window today. Thought you might like it.”

He takes your flowers to put in a vase in your kitchen while you open your gift and pull it out. The weight of the dress surprises you, but as you lay it out, you can’t help but gasp a little. The dress has a velvet top with wide straps and a plunging neckline, accompanied by a graphic cut-out in the back. The velvet ends at the waist, where the rest of the dress flows out in a long silk skirt. It’s simple, but elegant, and the “Givenchy” tag has you raising your eyebrows before turning it over, the $7.920,00 price tag glaring up at you.

“Shawn?!” You call out. “I thought you said this was lowkey?”

He comes out of the kitchen, wiping his hands with a cloth towel. “It is lowkey.”

“Then why did you buy me a dress that costs almost  _eight thousand dollars_?” You ask, gesturing to said dress laid out on the back of your couch.

Again, he just smiles at you. “I told you, I saw it while I was out and thought you might like it. Besides. The speakeasy is lowkey, but it’s not for the general public. It’s invite only, and I’m inviting you.”

You stare at him. “You’re inviting me? Can you extend a private invite like that?”

“Of course I can.” He scoffs. “I own the place.”

You want to be shocked, but at this point you know better. Your family is part of a mob for goodness sakes, and so is Shawn’s. And if there’s one thing you’ve learned as the daughter of a mobster, it’s that money isn’t an object.

“You own the place.” You say slowly. “So you’re inviting me to come to your speakeasy, with you. And you want me to wear this eight thousand dollar dress.”

Shawn raises an eyebrow. “Is that a problem? Do you not want to go?”

“I want to go, I’d love to. I just…”

“What is it?” He asks, tossing the towel on the counter and approaching you, hands rubbing at your arms. “Do you not feel comfortable?”

“Well, just…this place of yours…it’s not for your family, or from your family, is it? Like there’s no meat locker in the basement or anything right?”

Shawn laughs, shaking his head. “No. There’s a downstairs basement but it’s full of whiskey barrels.”

“Can’t be too sure,” you say with a sly smirk. “You are the son of a mafia boss, you know.”

Shawn places a hand on your waist, playing with the tie on your robe. “And you’re the daughter of a mafia boss. Do  _you_  have access to a meat locker?”

You stare at him blankly, not wanting to say that yeah, you actually do. But Shawn gets the hint, laughs and says “Of course you do. You’re the secret daughter of a mob boss, you can have access to anything you want.” He takes a step back, gesturing to the dress. “Why don’t you put that on, and then we’ll get going, okay? You’re going to love it, I promise.”

-

The speakeasy Shawn owns is called “The Ring,” and appropriately so, because the layout is in a complete circle. It’s beneath a laundromat, stone stairs leading from the street down to a door with no windows and a picture of a diamond ring on the wood. When you enter, there’s an arrow that directs you to the right, where you officially enter the speakeasy. It’s crowded, everyone dressed to the nines, but by no means does it feel like you’re at those exhausting benefits for the wealthy. In fact, it feels lowkey, like Shawn said, and you can’t help but look around in appreciation.

“The Ring” is well lit, with loud music blaring through the speakers, as opposed to the other speakeasies you’ve been to before, and it’s all light brown wood, black accents and white lights. There’s little hidden alcoves and booths within them, dark maroon mesh curtains giving the illusion of privacy. You pass about ten booths in a line before you reach the bar, and it’s there that the bartender gives Shawn a bright smile, his blue eyes immediately capturing your attention.

“Shawnie boy!”

And the Irish accent is the second thing that captures your attention.

He’s cute - a brunette with a little bit of scruff, and when he notices you with Shawn, he gives you a smile just as bright.

“Well hello there petal,” he says, “and who might  _you_ be?”

You introduce yourself, extending your hand for him to shake, but he takes you by surprise, turning your hand over to gently kiss the back, then shaking it once and releasing your hand gently. “Niall,” he says. “Nice to meet you love. Can I ask how a girl like you ended up with a guy like Shawn?”

Shawn frowns at Niall, shoving him a little from across the bartop. “She’s my neighbor.”

“Neighbor, huh? Has he come over to ask to borrow sugar?” Niall asks, wagging his eyebrows.

Shawn winces as you laugh, and you shrug, tossing him a playful smile as you place your hand on Shawn’s lower back. “Once or twice.”

“A week?” Niall jokes.

“A day.”

Your reply stuns Niall and sends him into a fit of laughter, and Shawn frowns, not appreciating being the butt of your jokes. Niall points at you when he finally calms down, and tells Shawn “I like this girl, Shawnie boy. She’s way too good for you, but I like her.” He turns to fix you both a drink, and Shawn smiles, staring down at you before pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

When Niall turns back around, he’s got two glasses and he slides them across the bartop to your both. “Two whiskey gingers, made with our house whiskey.”

“Thanks man.” Shawn says, grabbing both glasses and motioning with his head to follow him. You smile at Niall, and he winks at you in return, wiggling his fingers in a little wave.

You follow Shawn through the ring to a door in the back, which leads you through a little hallway with mirrors on each side, and at the end is a large red door labelled “Private.”

Shawn hands you a glass so he can punch in a code on the door, and when it opens, you’re surprised to see a very clean office, complete with a large desk in the middle of the room, couch, two bookshelves along both walls, and carpets layered on top of one another don the floor. It’s extremely cozy, and you both take a seat on the couch, taking a sip of your drink as you go. The alcohol burns as it goes down, but the aftertaste is smooth, and it’s more refreshing than anything else.

“So?” He asks, gesturing in front of him. “What do you think?”

“I’m impressed.” You say honestly. “I’m a little confused as to how you ended up with this place though.”

Shawn shrugs. “I mean, it’s mostly Niall’s fault. We met a few years ago when I went with my family to visit my mom’s family back in England. Niall was in a pub I went to with my cousins, and he was such a happy and friendly dude, talking to everyone in the bar. He mentioned he was moving to New York and I gave him my number, told him to call me when he came down. He called after about a month of living here, told me he got a job as a bartender but he didn’t like it. So he and I looked into a few things, with my dad’s help, obviously, and we found this place. It took us a bit to find a distillery and get everything built and set up, but it all worked out pretty well. I just kinda own it, pay for stuff, but Niall? He’s the genius behind this place. He decorated, decided on the menu - he did it all himself.”

As he talks, you can’t help but be further impressed by Shawn’s modesty, and his willingness to jump into something like this head first. “And does he know that you’re a  _Mendes_?”

He laughs. “No, but I’m pretty sure Niall could be in the Irish mafia himself. He’s got family in South Boston, so you never know.”

You nod, looking around the room again appreciatively as you take a sip of your drink. “Is this night still lowkey?” you ask.

“It is,” he says. “Why?”

“Only asking, since you brought me back to your office for drinks.” You smirk as he starts to blush. “Were you hoping to get me drunk? Maybe drunk enough that I’d ask you to touch me?”

His cheeks are red when he downs the rest of his drink, setting his glass on a little side table. “I wasn’t planning on that, no.”

You knock back the rest of your drink, getting up and sauntering over to the desk. That one glass was definitely not enough alcohol, but it’s strong enough to give you the shivers when you look at Shawn, muscles bulging in his black shirt, his black suit pants making him look quite delicious.

“Pity.” You whisper as you make your way around the desk, looking at the pictures Shawn has.

There’s one of him and Niall, Shawn sitting in a chair in a hoodie, and Niall standing above him in a dress shirt and suit pants, both boys smiling at the camera. There’s another of Shawn and a young girl, presumably his sister, smiling as a beautiful city skyline serves as their backdrop. The third picture is of Shawn, his sister, and his parents, standing in front of the Eiffel Tower looking as if the photographer caught all of them in the middle of laughing.

The pictures warm your heart, and you’re so preoccupied by them that you don’t notice Shawn’s gotten up from the couch to stand behind you, his hands ghosting over your skin, settling on the skirt of your dress.

“Why won’t you ask me to touch you?” He questions.

“Maybe because I don’t want to.” You say, moving away from him a little. You don’t get very far though, because then Shawn’s trapping you against the bookshelf behind you, his arms on either side of your head.

“Why not?”

“Because Shawn, you can’t get everything you want. Besides, you’re the one who set the terms in the first place.”

“I want to be respectful,” he says. “And I want you to see how serious I am about this. About  _us_.”

You roll your eyes. “What do you want from me, Shawn?”

“Just you.” He says. “I only want you.”

“You can’t have me.” You say.

“Because you don’t want me to? Or because you don’t want  _me_.”

You level him with a look. “I want  _you_ , but I can’t have you.”

“Because we’re Romeo and Juliet?” He asks.

“If you say that one more time we will  _never_  be a thing.”

Shawn sighs. “I just want you to understand that I like you.”

“You barely know me. We barely know each other.”

“Why are you fighting this?”

“Me sleeping with you multiple times is fighting you on this?”

“Your favorite color is cobalt blue.”

You pause, staring at Shawn. “How do you know that?”

“Your jewelry, and the decorative pillows, and your blanket on the couch. You even have cups that color, and your towels are the same color.”

“Interesting observation.” You note. “Anything else?”

“You love it when I kiss you on the forehead. And you love white wine. You wear your Nike leggings more than actual pants. You love it when I fuck you from behind. Your favorite ring is the opal one you got from Yellowstone and I know it’s your favorite because you wear it all the time. You hate it when I tell you that we’re like Romeo and Juliet but it’s only because you know it’s true, you just don’t want it to be.”

You purse your lips, head suddenly feeling fuzzy. “I think your whiskey is a little strong.”

You feel dizzy all of a sudden, and you don’t know if it’s due to the weight of his words or the combination of the wine from earlier and whiskey just now that has you looking up at him from under your lashes, blinking hard when you see him already watching you.

“I haven’t known you very long.” You say.

“So? I haven’t known you long either but I’m crazy about you.”

“Only because you spied on me.”

“I couldn’t help myself.” He whispers. You can see his hand in your peripheral vision moving to touch you, but both hands quickly drop to his side, and he groans, taking a step back from you, face set in a hard line. “You need to tell me. You need to say it or I…I can’t do this.” You move to reach for him, but he steps back again, out of reach. “If you don’t say it I’ll bring you home right now, and I’ll stop trying. I won’t try to convince you. But if you say it…I promise you won’t regret it.”

“Shawn.”

“What?”

This is pointless, you realize. Trying to fight him, the attraction between the two of you. The more you fight it the more you know it’s not going to work. “You don’t need to convince me.” You say. “I like you. A lot. Okay? More than I should. But we…it could be dangerous if we do this.”

“It already is dangerous.” He says. “But I’m already risking it. I’m more public than you. I’m putting it all on the line. But as long as I have you I don’t give a shit about what happens to me.”

“Shawn-”

“No. You know how I feel. You know what I want. What do you want?”

You can’t even blame it on the alcohol when you push yourself off of the bookshelf and cross over to him in quick strides, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him down into a searing kiss, pressing your body against his and grabbing his hands, placing them on your ass.

“I want you to touch me.” You murmur against his lips, and it takes a split second, but then he’s moving, large hands grasping your butt firmly and pulling you against him. His lips become more insistent, aggressive but passionate, and he moves to cup your face in his hands, keeping your lips together because he can’t get enough, isn’t ready to stop.

You eventually push him back though, because you’re too keyed up to be satisfied with a quick fuck on Shawn’s office desk.

“Let’s go home,” you tell him between kisses.

Shawn’s quick to take you by the hand, leaving your glasses on his desk and leading you back through the club.

-

The minute you cross the threshold into Shawn’s house he’s scooping you up and into his arms, carrying you through his house and to the kitchen. He places you on the marble island in the center of the room, grabbing the sleeves of your dress and pulling down, the dress falling to the floor as Shawn drops to his knees.

The cool air of his house hits your bare center, and Shawn looks up at you through hooded eyes. “You wore an eight thousand dollar dress with no underwear?”

You shrug. “Didn’t feel like it’d match the dress.”

Shawn decides that answer’s good enough, and he pushes your legs apart, placing both over his shoulder as one of his large hands comes up to rest on your stomach and pushes gently, urging you to lay back. You do, hair fanning out around you and skin meeting the cool marble, alcohol still making you a little foggy.

You can feel Shawn’s warm breath on your thighs before he’s planting soft wet kisses from the inside of your left knee, up your thigh, sucking a bruise in the junction between your thigh and pussy, making you giggle and moan. He repeats the same to the other junction, before kissing down to your right knee, humming as he goes.

You’re dripping at this point, waiting in anticipation, and Shawn can smell you, and it clouds his senses, goes straight to his cock that strains against his dress pants. You curl your fingers into his hair, and then you can feel Shawn’s tongue dipping in at your entrance, collecting you on the tip of his tongue.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes. “You taste  _so good_.” And then he flattens his tongue, licking up in a long and broad stroke, his lips closing around your clit and sucking it into his mouth.

The sheer pleasure has you gasping, arching up and tangling your other hand into his hair, pushing his face closer. Shawn takes it, wraps his large hands around your thighs and presses up, nose brushing against your clit as his tongue continues its assault, licking and sucking at your core, little noises of appreciation vibrating through his chest and against your skin.

He moves one hand down, licking it into his mouth before pressing softly at your entrance, eyes watching in amazement as he slowly pushes in and your pussy tightens around his finger, sucking him in.

“Fucking hell.” He curses, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking as he begins to pump his finger in and out, working you open at a steady pace.

“Shawn,” you moan, trying to wiggle your hips down, trying to get him deeper, to add another - do something to take this edge off. You’re so close to cumming, but he’s not giving in, strong arms and hands holding you steady and in place.

“Relax baby,” he purrs. “We’ve got all night.”

You tug at his curls in annoyance, and Shawn pauses his movements, looking up at you with a frown on his face. “Hey.” He warns. “Do that again and I won’t fuck you.”

A smirk plays on your lips as he resumes, figuring it’s an empty threat. You wait a little, moaning at the feeling of his mouth on you before you tug again.

You feel the loss immediately, Shawn’s fingers removing themselves from you and his mouth pulling away as he stands, grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulders as he heads upstairs. You giggle a little, reaching down to pinch his butt, and he responds with a hard spank to your bare bottom, tells you “Cut it out. I’m already not going to fuck you. Keep it up and you don’t get to cum tonight at all.”

You’ve never seen this side to him, and something tells you to listen to him or it might not bode well for you.

Shawn nudges his door open with his foot, crossing over to his bed in three strides. He kicks of his shoes and you stay standing, watching him strip down, cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs, before he sits on the bed, motioning for your to join him.

He helps you settle between his legs, your back flush against his front. He wraps one arm around your middle and drapes the other down your body, your legs parting on instinct, giving his fingers access to start working in circles on your clit.

Your eyes shut on instinct, but Shawn somehow can tell, so he whispers “Open those pretty eyes for me honey.”

When you do, you notice that you’re facing the open window that looks into your bedroom as he rubs your clit, lips working to planting hickeys on your neck when he slips two fingers back inside of you.

“You know baby,” he whispers, “When I first saw you through that window, all I wanted was to be right there with you, laying you on your bed. I just wanted to be able to do this to you, make you come and feel that tight little pussy around my fingers. Imagine my satisfaction when I got to do just that the very next night.”

Shawn slips in a third finger and you arch against him, a gasp leaving your lips.

“Do you remember that night, baby?” He asks. You try to nod, but then Shawn’s hands are moving up and down at a rapid pace, and you’re gasping for air as his fingers move against that sensitive spot inside of you. He’s trying to make you cum, and fast.

“Did I make you feel good that night?” He hums.

 _Asshole._  You can’t possibly talk, not with your orgasm building as quickly as it is inside of you. Shawn must be able to sense it himself, because then he’s pulling you tighter against him, fingers working as he says “Tell me if you’re going to cum.”

Oh, you’re going to. You can’t verbalize, but you know that if you don’t let him know somehow he’ll make you pay for it. So you squeeze his thigh as you arch up, butt lifting off of the bed and Shawn moves quickly, fingers disappearing and being replaced by his cock, easing you down onto it as your orgasm rips through you, fresh wave of cum making it easy for his cock to slip inside, still stretching you and filling you to the hilt.

Being fully seated on his cock makes you cum all over again, shaking on top of him as he hold you tight in his arms, pussy pulsing and his fingers rubbing your clit until you’re cumming a third time, but he doesn’t move his hips - not once.

But when you come down from your orgasm, it’s not enough. You’re spent, breathing heavy and so sensitive, but you want more, you  _need_  more. So you’re scrambling, moving around and Shawn keeps his hold on you, asking “What is it honey? What do you need?”

“Shawn,” you whine. “Need more. Please.”

He shakes his head. “No baby, not gonna fuck you. I already told you that.”

You make a mental note in your head that Shawn’s into cockwarming, figuring you can do something with that later, but in this moment you start whining, moving your hips as much as you can to get him to  _move_.

“Please baby,” you beg. “Please.”

Shawn’s moving all of a sudden - probably because you’ve never called him baby before - and then he’s moving so you’re on your stomach, Shawn laying his full weight on top of you as he fucks you from behind, thick cock driving into you over and over again until you’re crying and overwhelmed, begging him in whispers to keep going.

Shawn comes suddenly, pressing his cock deep inside of you with a shout, shaking above you and growling out a “you’re  _mine_ ” into your hair.

He carefully maneuvers you both onto your sides, keeping himself inside of you as he pulls the blankets over your bodies.

The room is filled with your combined heavy breathing, and as the highs die down, Shawn’s tracing his fingers along your stomach, pressing soft kisses to the back of your shoulders.

You feel like you could fall asleep just like this - Shawn with his arms wrapped around you, naked bodies pressed together, his cock still inside of you. And you get so comfortable that your eyes shut, can feel sleep taking over when Shawn whispers into the room.

“I’m crazy about you.” He says. “I know it hasn’t been long, but I’m crazy about you…I think…I think I might be falling for you.”

It’s when he says it out loud that you get the message that he’s really all about you, and it also reminds you that he kept his promise and his end of the deal - he didn’t do a thing you didn’t ask him to do.

You’re a little shocked, because he’s right.

You two do have something between you both.

But it also proves how serious he is about the two of you, and you start to consider the fact that this could all possibly work out.

“I think I’m falling for you too, Shawn.” You say.

You can feel him smile, pulling you closer as sleep consumes you both.


	4. Chapter 4

You wake up from a deep and peaceful sleep, feeling well rested and cozy and relaxed beneath the covers. The clock tells you that it’s early in the afternoon, and when you turn to wake up your boyfriend, you notice that Shawn isn’t in bed with you, and in his place lies a note folded up with a heart on the front. Your heart flutters, opening it to read.

**_“Good morning beautiful,_ **

**_Sorry I couldn’t wake up with you this morning. I had to go in to work at the company for a planning meeting about a charity event, but I promise I’ll be home for dinner. Text me and let me know if you want me to pick something up._ **

**_I’ll see you soon_ **

**_P.S. Last night was incredible, I can’t stop thinking about it”_ **

His words make you blush, events of last night coming to surface once more.

Last night, when you told him you were falling for him, you meant it. You both slept peacefully, aside from the fact that every now and again, Shawn would wake you up for more, kissing your exposed skin and pulling the sheets down, hands and lips roaming at free will. He made love to you before the sunrise, and right before you went back to bed, he kissed you deeply and told you that he was happy and thankful that he moved next door to you in the first place.

All of this makes you feel like you’re in a relationship again - which, yes, technically you were. It particularly made you feel like spoiling him, which is exactly what you were going to do.

You quickly made his bed before gathering your things and heading next door to your house to shower and change, then head out. You run to the grocery store first, picking up a few things for dinner before making a quick stop to your favorite lingerie store where you pick up a new set - baby pink and complete with lace.

You haven’t had a boyfriend in awhile and your favorite thing to do when you had one was spoil them with food, as well as naked pictures or pictures of you in lingerie.

And from what you’ve seen from Shawn, he is  _definitely_  the kind of guy who loves that shit.

It’s not till a couple of hours later when you’re in his kitchen that you text him  **Dinner will be ready when you get home**

And another  **And so will dessert**  accompanied with a winky face, and a picture of you in your new set. It’s a mirror photo, you face absent and the picture focused on your body.

It’s not even a minute later when Shawn replies,  **On my way home now. Don’t change.**

-

When Shawn walks through his door, the aroma that fills his nose is intoxicating, can smell steak and cheese and pasta, and even hints of chocolate. His stomach growls in response, and his feet carry him to the kitchen, where you’re standing at the stove, stirring at a pot, in the gorgeous set he saw earlier in your photos.

Photos which he now had saved in a locked album in his phone.

You turn to face him when he enters the kitchen, a wide smile gracing your face, and he smiles in return, tossing his keys and phone onto the counter, crossing the space in three strides and cupping your face in his hands, tilting your head back to press his lips against yours in a needy kiss. Your arms wind themselves around his waist, pulling him against you as close as possible.

He groans low and deep in his chest, the feeling of your soft skin under his fingers something he wants to engrave in his memory forever.

“Shawn,” you murmur, trying to pull back to stir the risotto but he won’t give up, lips chasing after yours desperately.

“ _Baby_ ,” he breathes, snaking one hand in your hair and grabbing a fistful gently, pulling your head back a little more to expose the skin on your neck, dipping his head to leave little nips before sucking a mark at the spot. You let out a little gasp, body arching up and Shawn presses his other hand at the small of your back, grinding his hard cock into your abdomen.

That’s when you place your hands on his chest and push a little, pecking him gently on the lips before pulling away. “Shawn,” you say, nearly breathless. “Go sit, I’ll bring the food over in a minute.”

He shakes his head in protest, head dipping back to yours for more kisses but you duck out of the way and wriggle your way out from between him and the counter, returning to the stove. You can hear Shawn grumbling as a little as he goes, but he does as you say and takes a seat at the dining table.

You make your plates and head over, placing one in front of him and one at your place across from him. Shawn swats your ass when you grab the wine from the ice filled bucket in the center of the table, pouring you both a glass before sitting down to eat.

You make him steak tip risotto with roasted vegetables on the side, and chilling in the fridge was chocolate covered strawberries, waiting patiently for dessert.

You get up to go put on a large shirt to cover yourself, when Shawn makes a noise, blushing when you look to him in concern.

“Don’t change,” he says, grabbing your wrist gently to pull you back into your seat. “Can you eat dinner with me? Like this?” He asks, his eyes giving your body a good once over.

You oblige happily, nodding and taking your seat again, and Shawn’s internally shocked that you didn’t fight him on it.

You mostly agreed because you can tell he’s going crazy, glances at you every now and again between bites of food and sips of wine. This was the exact reaction you’d been hoping for, and you can’t deny the smug feeling that boosts your ego a little, has you sitting in a certain way that pushes your chest out, breasts spilling over the cups a little.

Shawn can’t stop staring. Can barely focus on the delicious meal you’ve made him and the alcohol definitely isn’t helping any either. He’s shoveling food into his mouth at this point, not really tasting anything when he watches you toss your long hair over your shoulder, taking another long sip of your wine, batting your eyelashes at him over the rim of your glass.

And that’s…that’s just  _it._

He’s restless now, and Shawn’s just about to get the guts to try something new, working up the courage to put on his “alpha male” persona and tell you to go upstairs and wait for him on your hands and knees, ass facing the doorway.

But then his phone rings from the kitchen counter, and immediately his thoughts of you vanish, having no doubt as to who’s calling, especially at this time of day.

And it’s not good.

You’re looking at him expectantly as the phone rings, and Shawn wipes his mouth with a napkin, muttering an “excuse me for a second” before leaving the dining room and grabbing his phone in the kitchen.

He moves into the living room to put some distance between the two of you, keeping you out of earshot when he answers.

“Dad?”

“Took you long enough.” His dad jokes. Shawn knows deep down he’s serious though.

“What do you need?”

“Just a quick and painless favor. I need you to wire money to Daniel Vaughn.”

Shawn’s jaw clenches on instinct. The name pegs recognition in his memory, an image of a large burly man in his head and Shawn knows he’s not just an employee of the company, but an employee of the  _family business_.

He sighs internally. “Sure. What is it for?”

“It’s just taking care of business.”

Shawn knows that means it’s nothing good, but doesn’t push it. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you leaning in the threshold of the living room, concern on your face.

He doesn’t look at you.

“How much?” Shawn asks, not wanting to know the answer.

“One point two five ought to do it.”

The number makes Shawn’s head spin. “Alright. I’ll take care of it when I go into the office tomorrow morning.”

“That’s my boy. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Bye.”

Shawn hangs up quickly, tossing his phone onto the couch and running a hand over his face in annoyance, happy mood from earlier completely dissipated.

He really doesn’t want to wire the money, but he knows tomorrow morning he’s going to have to do as he’s asked, because if he doesn’t, his father won’t let him continue working for the company.

And all of Shawn’s hard work, all his planning for charity events, philanthropies, all of his humanitarian work would be for nothing. Even though in this moment, Shawn doesn’t feel like much of a humanitarian, not with his mob boss father asking him to wire one point two million dollars to a hitman.

You saunter over to him, clearly sensing his distress, running your hands up and down his arms. “Hey,” you say softly. “What is it? What’s up?”

“I’m a terrible person.” Shawn says. And that tells you all you need to know - it’s about the family business, and he’s caught in a bind.

“Shawn,” you say, “You know it’s not your fault. You’re not a bad person, you’re just trying to be a good son.”

“But I can’t be both.” He says, resting his head atop yours as he pulls you in for a hug. “I can’t be a good person to society if I’m helping my father pay off his lackeys who kill people for a living one minute, and then the next minute I’m hosting a charity gala for underprivileged youth.”

“But babe, you know that if you wanted to, you have the means necessary to start your own company and foundation, and if you want, I’d be happy to help you do so. I mean, there’s no sense working for your father if you’re being obligated to do things he doesn’t want to do.”

“I wish it was that simple. I never wanted to be part of the family business like this.” He says, pained. “I only took the job so I could do humanitarian things. Not so I could help him do shitty things like this.”

You nod, completely understanding his situation. “I know, Shawn.”

It’s one thing for the world to see your fathers as businessmen, which they do - Mendes and Associates and DeLuca Investments were two of the most powerful and financially successful businesses in New York City, and each company had their hands in other companies - but if the world knew that underneath it all, both Angelo DeLuca and Manuel Mendes were actually warring mob bosses, the city would no doubt crumble under the devastating truth.

Your fathers were some of the most respected men, feared out of admiration and intimidation, and if the public knew that with a snap of their fingers, New York’s golden businessmen could have anyone killed within a six hour time period, it would be dangerous for not just the city, but your families.

You’d lose everything, and so would Shawn.

“I envy you, you know.” He says after a minute, hands rubbing up and down your back. “Your dad kept you and your brothers a secret. He basically gave you the option to bow out of this shithole. You got to choose.”

“You get to choose too, Shawn,” you murmur, brushing his curls away from his face. “You always get to choose.”

Shawn stares at you for a moment, in awe, and then his hands come up to cup your face, pulling you in for another tender kiss. His lips are soft, but his mouth is moving passionately, desperately. When you part after a minute, he rests his forehead on yours. “I choose  _you_.”

You giggle a little. “I’m flattered, but I was talking about your career here.”

“Career, life, whatever. I want to do it with you. I want to build an empire with you.”

You feel like your heart could leap out of your chest and into his hands. “Now look who sounds like a mob boss.” You tease.

“I’m serious.” He whines a little. “Why when I say honest things can you never take me seriously?”

You shrug, pecking his lips. “Not used to honesty, I suppose.”

“Well you’d better start getting used to it.” He says, toying with a strand of your hair.

“Mhm” you say, “Now, I  _did_  make you dessert, if you were interested.”

Shawn’s face perks up a little, and he notices you’re still in your lingerie. “Oh, you did?”

“Chocolate covered strawberries.”

A wicked smile crosses his face. “Did you happen to buy whipped cream when you were out?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I did. Why?”

Shawn takes your hand, smiling brightly as he leads you into the kitchen, and says “Well we’re not using it on the strawberries, that’s for sure.”

-

You give your outfit the once over in the floor length mirror of your room, deciding on whether or not it’s acceptable or if you should change. You’re wearing a backless white halter bodysuit tucked into a Burberry plaid skirt, accompanied with a black blazer and high top black converse, your long hair flowing down your back.

It’s “School Daze & Sweethearts” theme night at The Ring, basically couples night, but Niall came up with the idea of the theme so you had to indulge him.

You figure your attire is appropriate enough, and you’re just about to grab your phone and text Shawn that you’re ready when light dance across your room.

You turn to your open bedroom window, where Shawn’s holding your small compact mirror you accidentally left there a few nights ago, aiming it in the sunlight to project little reflections in your room. You smile at him, waving your fingers and giving his outfit the once over.

He’s wearing a white shirt tucked into navy blue jeans, black boots on his feet, matching navy blue varsity jacket over his broad torso and muscular arms, and he’s wearing his reading glasses.

You smirk to yourself, and when you meet his eyes again, you can see that his eyes are wandering over your body, lips licking on instinct.

You’re  _definitely_  not changing.

With a little turn to poke your ass out, you give him a little show, bending over and reaching up the bed to grab your phone and your little wristlet, and shut the light in your room off. Shawn meets you at your front door, his face a little flushed.

“Are you trying to kill me?” He says as you lock your door and head to his car.

You shrug. “Just trying to dress for the occasion, is all.”

Shawn doesn’t respond, too busy trying to keep himself in check and not to strip you down and fuck you right in your driveways.

You head to The Ring, multiple couples dressed the part, dancing and drinking the night away. Niall sets you and Shawn up in a booth closest to the bar, making sure you’re both stocked up on alcohol and popcorn and wings and potato skins from the kitchen.

After a little while, you join Shawn on his side of the booth. He moves to make a space for your next to him, but you sit right on his lap, pulling a string near the wall that allows for the little maroon mesh curtain to cover your booth, giving you and Shawn a little privacy. A slow and sultry song comes on, and you begin to move your hips, the lyrics adding to the sensual mood.

_“Balmain silk slip off your back, you get so impatient, I know you got your cravings”_

Shawn’s hands attach themselves to your hips, guiding you on his lap as you circle them, giving him a little lap dance. You grind backwards, hips brushing against the growing erection in his jeans, and he groans low in his throat, one hand brushing your hair aside so his lips can attach themselves to your neck.

“You  _are_  trying to kill me.” He murmurs, one of his hands slipping underneath your skirt, fingers brushing against your bare core, a shock running through him when he finds you like that.

“What-”

“I took them off in the bathroom,” You say, rolling your hips forward and making contact with his fingers. “And I put them in the top drawer of your desk, for safe keeping.”

Shawn groans, maneuvering you carefully so you’re facing him, still straddling his waist as you continue to sway your hips to the music. He reaches a hand between you both, unbuttoning his jeans and undoing his zipper, pulling out his rock hard cock and adjusting just enough until you sink down on top of him.

A loud moan leaves your lips, walls clenching around his cock trying to adjust to the sudden stretch.

“Fuck.” You curse, checking to make sure no one around is paying attention - and they’re not.

“Who cares if they see.” Shawn breathes, fingers fitting on your ribs as you start to ride him. “I want them to see. I want them to see me fucking the most  _beautiful_  girl in all of New York.”

You blush a little, burying your face in his neck and planting wet kisses there, trailing up to his jawline. He cradles the back of your head, his other arm wrapped firmly around your back as he bucks up, and at this angle he’s hitting that wonderful spot inside of you, and you can hear him struggling to last, but you’re ready to cum any minute, so your dig your nails into his biceps, biting down at the skin where his neck meets his shoulders, grinding your hips down as you clench and shake around him.

Shawn moans, loves how tight you are, how it feels like your bodies were made to be together, and it’s not long after you cum around him that he pushes his hips up and pulls yours down, cumming deep inside of you with a low groan into your hair.

You take a peek from your spot on his lap to see that the maroon mesh curtains have done their job, and that no one is the wiser about what you and Shawn have just done.

Carefully, he helps you climb off of him, tucking himself back into his jeans and you help zip and button him up. He plants a sweet kiss and pats your bum twice. “Go clean up in the office. I’ll wait right here.”

You nod, kissing him again before retreating toward the back.

-

After you’ve managed to clean up and put your underwear back on, you’re at the bar chatting happily with Niall waiting for him to finish up your next round of drinks. Something he says makes you laugh, and then there’s a tap on your shoulder.

You turn, jaw dropping a little in surprise at who you see.

“Danny?” You ask, smiling and hugging him as he smiles back at you.

Danny is an old friend of yours, one you grew up with but haven’t seen in awhile due to your lives taking different directions. His father works for your father in the family business as part of security detail. Danny’s not in the family business, but he likes to think he is, and that’s where you two have always butt heads.

Niall gives you a little space, going in the back of the bar to check on the appetizers you ordered for you and Shawn, which gives you and Danny time to catch up and talk.

“How’d you get invited?” He asks, taking the barstool next to you.

“Boyfriend owns the place with Niall here.” You say, winking at Niall as he returns and hands you your drinks.

Danny smirks. “Boyfriend huh? Anyone I would know?”

You’re about to tell him “no” when Shawn idles up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your neck. You smile. “Danny, this is my boyfriend Shawn, Shawn, this is my old friend Danny.”

“Nice to meet you man,” Shawn says, extending his hand.

Danny just stares at it, then looks at you, and then at Shawn.

“ _This_  is your boyfriend?” Danny asks. “Shawn Mendes?”

Shawn frowns. “Is that a problem?”

 _Shit._  You think. It _is_  a problem. You feel so stupid to have forgotten for even a split second.

“Does Angelo know about this?” Danny asks, incredulous.

You square your shoulders, holding your head up high as you get up from your stool, standing in front of Shawn. “My father doesn’t need to know anything about my life. Or have you forgotten the mistake he made?”

Danny shakes his head. “Regardless of what your father has done, it’s not right that you’re here with  _him_. You should be with someone else.”

“Well she’s not.” Shawn says angrily. “She’s here with me and she’s made her choice.”

“Well she chose wrong.”

It pisses Shawn off, and Danny thinks when Shawn moves to pull you away that he’s actually trying to step in front of you, so Danny swings, it flies above your head and narrowly misses Shawn, but Shawn isn’t happy that he almost hit you, so Shawn pushes you behind him and shoves at Danny, who swings again.

Danny’s clearly thinking he has the upper hand, but he doesn’t realize that Shawn boxes. Before you can even blink, fists are flying, and Niall’s hopping over the bar as security jumps in. You call for Shawn, can’t see him until the fight breaks up and you see him standing tall, a few scrapes on his body as Danny lies on the floor, bloody and bruised and way worse than Shawn.

Danny obviously lost.

You immediately run up to Shawn, grabbing his arm and hauling him out of the club, but not before turning to see Danny already looking at you, and you yell at him, telling him to fuck off.

You take Shawn to the car and drive back to his house to help him out, grabbing a first aid kit from the hall closet so you can help clean his wounds. You’re standing between his legs as he sits on the counter, the two of you silent for a minute as you work until Shawn brings his free hand up to caress the side of your face, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ears.

“No one is going to take me away from you.” He murmurs. “I don’t care about our fathers, I don’t care about how they feel about each other. I know that I have feelings for you, and they can’t stop me from wanting to be with you.”

“I know Shawn,” you say. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You love me, right?” He asks. You can sense the anxiousness in his voice. “I’m not on my own in this.”

You sigh. “Of course I love you, Shawn. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

He raises his injured hand to cup your cheek. “Then stay.” He says. “Don’t go back to your place, stay with me tonight. Stay with me in the morning. Just stay. Please.”


	5. Chapter 5

You sigh internally, psyching yourself up in the car as you punch the numbers in to allow you through the iron gate and up the driveway to your childhood home. You park behind Leo and Mathias’s car, happy that they arrived before you so you don’t have to spend unnecessary one on one time with your father.

Angelo invited you over for Sunday dinner, claiming he had something important to discuss with the three of his children, and he wanted to do it over a nice meal.

Which you laughed at. No meal any of you shared since he cheated on your mother was “nice.”

You suck up your pride, deciding that there was really no getting out of this one, and made your way inside. Your brothers were on the couch watching TV in the living room, and at your entrance, the three of you exchanged the same “I can’t believe we have to be here”  look you normally do every time your father has you all over.

His housemaid, Dawn, comes to summon the three of you to the dinner table, where you dig into your meals without waiting for him to be seated.

Angelo sits down about ten minutes after you and your brothers start eating, frowning a little that you didn’t wait for him.

But really, what did he expect?

You and your brothers used to have an amazing relationship with your father - he was always there for you, never threw money at you, always was considerate, kind, and respectable. You didn’t quite understand the family business as children, but as you grew up, it got even harder to grasp the possibility that your down to earth father could be capable of such heinous things.

Until he cheated on your mother.

Then his true colors came out. He was selfish, only did things for show, made it look like he was a family man but really - how could he claim to be one if to the rest of the world he had no children?

You originally didn’t carry his last name for protection - technically that was still true - but you and your brothers knew that by now, it was by choice.

“So  _dad_ ” Leo says when he’s finished his own plate, smart ass smirk on his face. “What brings us over this time?”

Your father frowns, wiping his mouth with a napkin before he says “I would like it if you could protect your sister a little more.”

Mathias raises a brow and says “What do you mean?” at the same time that you say “I can protect myself.”

“Clearly not.” Angelo says. “Not according to Danny.”

Your heart drops into your feet.

Danny  _wouldn’t._

Except he probably fucking did.

“Danny?” Leo scoffs. “What does that egghead know?”

Your father looks right at you when he says “Danny tells me that there was an incident last week  at a club. He ran into you and your boyfriend and that your boyfriend beat him up.”

So maybe he didn’t tell your father  _everything_.

“And?” Mathias asks. “Danny probably deserved it.”

Your father ignores him. “He also told me that your boyfriend is Shawn Mendes.”

_That fucking useless creep._

Leo and Mathias both look at you a little in shock, but you remain unfazed under your father’s scrutiny.

“And? So what if he is?” You challenge, taking a sip from your wine glass.

“Well, it’s now Leo and Mathias’ responsibility to make sure you don’t continue to see Shawn. At all.”

“Like hell it is,” Mathias says.

Leo scoffs. “She can do what she wants, she’s an adult. We’re not baby sitting her just because she’s dating the son of some man you don’t like.”

You are  _so_ grateful for Leo and Mathias. It’s unreal. You chime in after them, saying “You do  _not_  get to dictate who I do and don’t spend my time with,  _especially_  not who I choose to be in a relationship with. You’re the _last_  person on Earth who should be talking to me about relationships.”

You know if you weren’t blood, you’d be killed for talking to your father like that. You can mostly tell, because judging by the look on his face, Angelo isn’t taking what you just said very well.

“Do you realize that by associating yourself with that boy, that you’re betraying the DeLuca family, and the DeLuca family name?”

“I can’t betray a family that doesn’t know I exist, especially a family I’m not part of, and that I don’t claim.” You say.

“Well then have you ever thought that maybe he’d be betraying his own family by being with you? Tell me, have you met Manuel? Does he know who you are? That you’re my daughter?”

“I’m  _not_ your daughter. You’ve made that very clear.” You spit, throwing your napkin onto the table, grabbing your purse and standing up.

You look your father right in the eyes when you tell him, “You can take away my house, my car, everything you’ve bought me as a ploy to try to buy my forgiveness for your mistakes, I don’t care. It’s not going to change how I feel. I’m not going to stop seeing Shawn. And you can’t make me. And if you hurt him, if you threaten him, if you do anything to try to separate us, then I  _will_  become a DeLuca. And testing my patience, and trying to ruin my relationship, will be the  _worst_  mistake you’ve ever made.”

-

Shawn is in his basement working out when he hears your car pull into the driveway, doors slamming as you exit the vehicle. He can hear you sobbing through the open basement window as you stomp into your house and slam the door, and he knows that means that dinner with your father did  _not_ go very well.

He’s not done with his routine, but he could care less.

He jumps in the shower to clean off really quickly before he heads next door to your place, using his spare key to let himself in. Shawn hears the muffled crying he knows is coming from your bedroom, along with sounds of drawers slamming and your feet stomping across the floor.

He heads upstairs and when he approaches your doorway, he sees suitcases and boxes strewn all over the place, half of your wardrobe out on your bed. His heart sinks immediately.

“What’s going on?” He says, causing you to jump, clearly not expecting him.

Your face is blank for a second before you break down, openly crying and your arms falling limply at your sides, the shirt you were holding landing on the ground. Shawn surges forward in two quick strides, wrapping his arms around you and cradling you tight to his chest.

“If I met your dad right now Shawn, would he hate me?”

Shawn blinks, the question shocking him a little. “No, he wouldn’t.”

“Even if we told him I was the daughter of Angelo DeLuca?”

He frowns. “What is this about honey?”

You push him away, permanent frown of your own etched on your features and it’s tugging on his heartstrings. “If I met your father, he would hate me right off the bat, wouldn’t he? If we told him the truth.”

“Probably.” Shawn says, a little frustrated. “Do we need to talk about this  _now_?”

You ignore his question. “And if we lied? Used my mother’s maiden name.”

“You mean your real last name?” You level Shawn with a look, and he sighs. “Fine. If we  _didn’t_ tell him then he’d probably love you. He’d think you’re strong and determined and kind. He’d say you’re the one for me and he’d ask when the wedding was.”

At Shawn’s response, you laugh, sad and weak, and Shawn runs a hand through his curls, frustrated. “What is this about?”

You face the window that looks into Shawn’s bedroom, voice low when you tell him “My dad found out about us. He tried to tell me that I couldn’t be with you anymore, and I told him that if he tried to tear us apart, I’d make him regret it.”

Shawn is both extremely proud of you and sad at the same time. “Baby. I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, crying a little more. “I’m not. I told him he could take my house, my car, everything he wants, but he couldn’t take me away from you, or you away from me.”

Shawn gapes. “You think he’d do that?”

“I basically just betrayed him, so I wouldn’t be surprised.” You say, scoffing sadly. “And I’m pretty sure now that if the situation was flipped, your dad would do the same thing. He’d fire you from the business and treat you like I’m sure my dad is about to treat me - like a  _rat_.”

Shawn can’t argue, what’s the point? He knows you’re right, and it’s killing both of you that the one thing you both tried to avoid, another Mendes v DeLuca problem, is exactly what’s happening.

It’s quiet for a moment, the air thick with tension, and then you say “I’m gonna have to get a hotel until I find somewhere new.”

Shawn shakes his head. “No way. You can move in with me.”

You finally face him again, shaking your head. “Shawn I can’t.”

“Why not? Angelo doesn’t know I’m your neighbor, right?” You nod. “Then it’s settled. You’ll move in with me if he decides to take the house, but I doubt he will.”

“You don’t understand Shawn. We never had a good relationship in the first place, but tonight, what I said…I felt good about it, at first. But now? Now I know I’m in trouble. He’s not happy with me at all. And my brothers can only help me so much. Even if I put all the payments in my name, which would be possible, he’d still find a way to take it from me and leave me on the street. And what he said…if your father met me…he’s right Shawn. This is a problem.  _We_ are a problem.”

Shawn feels his heart starting to crack. “I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that.”

“Why not? It’s true, and you were right. We’re Romeo and Juliet, Shawn. It’s inevitable. This can only end badly.”

He shakes his head. “I won’t let  _anyone_ hurt you. Not your father, not mine. They’d have to kill me to take you from me.” It takes a moment for him to realize what he’s just said, and he wants to take it back, but it’s too late. You start sobbing again, hiding your face in your hands, and it breaks Shawn’s heart.

He loves you - loves you so much he’s probably in love with you. And he wishes he wasn’t right, that  _you_  were right and that you’re not Romeo and Juliet, but it’s inevitable, like you said.

The only difference is that Shawn won’t let anyone tear you apart.

“I don’t care what we are. We’re not Romeo and Juliet, we’re you and me. I don’t care about my father, or yours. Neither of them will affect us. But your dad…” Shawn trails off, thinking of how your father might come back to exact his revenge. His face hardens, and he squeezes his eyes shut as he pulls you even closer. “Your dad has a lot of enemies.” Shawn says, tone hard as he crosses the room to you and holds you tight in his arms. “And now I’m one of them.”


	6. Chapter 6

You wait with limited patience, taking another sip of your lemon and mint water, checking the Armani watch Shawn just bought you and sighing at the fact that you’ve been waiting in this restaurant longer than you intended.

You’re sitting in a private section in the back, the host of the restaurant knowing full well the family you belonged to, and that the only reason anyone from your family, or any family like yours, comes to this restaurant is to conduct business.

Leo and Mathias sit on either side of you, just as impatient when your guests finally arrive, Danny strolling in with a black eye that’s sealed shut, arm in a sling, scars on his face from Shawn’s wrath.

You can’t help but be a little smug about it.

Behind him strolls in his younger sister Brittany, who looks pissed as hell, but to be quite honest, you could care less.

Danny was your friend, Brittany not so much. Growing up Danny got along with you and your siblings, but Brittany was always cold and rude, so you never got along.

It only made sense she would try to be here today.

Just like Danny, they both thought they had a leg to stand on just because their father worked for yours. But without your father, neither Danny nor Brittany had a claim to this lifestyle, making them targets.

Which they were about to be, if they didn’t agree to your terms peacefully.

“You’re late.” Leo starts, exuding how upset all three of you are in his tone.

“You look nice, Danny.” Mathias quips, laughing to himself.

Brittany scowls. “No thanks to your sister.”

If there’s anything you’re grateful for inheriting from your father, it’s the confidence, attitude, and rage of an inferno in situations like this - where you can safely turn it on and off.

“I’m sorry, but we weren’t speaking to you.” You say sharply, arching your perfect brow in her direction, sending her a scathing scowl of your own. “In case you forgot how this goes, you’ll speak when spoken to. And if you can’t follow simple instructions, you’ll surely be dismissed. Understood?”

You can tell she’s biting her tongue, and in your brain you’re just  _daring_  her to say something.

This wasn’t a friendly sit down by any means - this was a tried and true mafia style sit down, something you never thought you’d do in your life.

“Also,” Leo says. “We only invited Danny here to speak, so your presence isn’t necessary.”

“Why’d you tell my father about what happened at The Ring?” You cut to the chase, tired of waiting and wanting to get this over with. Danny can barely look at you when he answers.

“I felt embarrassed. And he deserved to know.”

“Deserved to know what?” Mathias spits. “Her relationship wasn’t hurting anyone. Who cares who she dates - don’t you think if it was that much of a problem, if it mattered to her in the slightest, that she’d be with him at all?”

Danny winces. “But Angelo-”

“Don’t you think that if I gave a shit about what he thought that I’d actually bother carrying his last name?” You retaliate. “The only reason you reacted the way you did is because of your father, and your blind and meaningless loyalty to my father.”

You lean forward, elbows on the tables and hands locked together. “I considered the issues and consequences of my relationship with Shawn.” You say, looking Danny in his good eye. “I considered them long and hard and decided that I didn’t give a shit. So yes, we went out. Yes, I’m his girlfriend. And my relationship with him is none of your business, it’s not the business of my father, or you, or Brittany.”

You look between the both of them. “The fact that you thought you had the right to go behind my back and tell my father about my personal business is ridiculous. And now you’re sitting here like you did nothing wrong. Did you forget that I know about the fact that you both stole money from your father, money that my father gave to your father and you both wasted it? Need I remind you that I am full and well aware that your father almost lost his job in my father’s company because of your idiotic charades with your father’s company account in Ibiza?”

Brittany stares at you wide eyed. “How did you-”

“Because I’m not a fucking idiot, Brittany. I know how to read a bank statement.” You spit.

Leo chimes in, saying “My father has us look over the accounts of all family business employees every once and awhile to check for discrepancies, and when we saw the discrepancy in his account lined up with your stupid vacation, we decided not to tell Angelo.”

“So I’d consider the fact that we know things that would alienate your family from this business if we decided to tell our father the truth.” Mathias states.

“So what? You’re gonna blackmail us for revenge?” Danny demands.

“If we were going to, it would have been done already.” You say. “This is just a reminder that the next time you go around squawking about my personal business, that I could just as easily go back to your father and mine and squawk about yours.”

“To sum it all up, mind your own fucking business, and we won’t have any more issues.” Leo states. “Any questions?”

Danny and Brittany both shake their heads, and you flash them a sickly sweet smile. “Perfect. Thank you. You’re dismissed.”

They both stand to leave - Danny with much difficulty - and turn to leave.

But something in you feels like you need to remind them one more time about the power you have - power you didn’t get from your father, power you gained on your own.

“Oh, and don’t forget.”

They both turn to look at you, and even your brothers are waiting to see what you’re going to say.

“If you’re going to continue to cause problems with the DeLuca family, or the Mendes family, I have no trouble contacting Victoria Gotti to set things straight.”

The last name of the most infamous and feared family in all of New York sends a look of horror across their faces, and they leave without another word.

-

You read the email over again, internally groaning to yourself that you’d forgotten.

Angela, the editor from GQ, reached out to you to remind you of the interview you agreed to do with Shawn to discuss the importance of activism, philanthropic, and humanitarian work when you have power or influence over a large community.

It’s due at the end of the month, and you have yet to come up with any questions, or think of anything that GQ would be interested in. Angela also reminded you that you’d be able to record the interview and send it to them to transcribe, but with your personal reservations about things like this, you insisted on transcribing it yourself - another reminder in her email.

This time, when you read it over, you groaned aloud in frustration, and it draws Shawn’s attention from the bathroom, where he’s just stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, taking the laptop from your hands and setting in on the bedside table.

You let him pull you into his chest when he sits on the bed, shutting your eyes to try to clear your head. “Angela just sent me an email about the interview.”

Shawn chuckles. “Oh, I forgot about that.”

“Yeah, I did too.” You say flatly.

“It’s okay.” He says, rubbing your back. “I think we can both agree that you need a break anyway.” He looks around your hotel room and at your open suitcase, and frowns. “I also think we can agree that you being here sucks.”

You sigh, shrugging off his touch and leaning forward, running a hand through your hair. You really _don’t_ want to have this conversation with him again. “I told you baby,” you say, “I’m just waiting for all the bills to go into my name instead of Angelo’s. The minute that happens, I’ll be back at home.”

“And I told  _you_ that you didn’t have to do any of that. You could just move in with me.” He goes to reach for you and you almost don’t let him, but you’re far too tired, so you allow his arms to wrap you up in his embrace again.

“I’m just trying to keep us safe.” You say. “After what happened with Danny…I just want to be sure that you and I don’t have to worry about anyone else interfering in this.”

“I’m proud of you for that by the way.” He says. “The way you handled Danny the other day, meeting with him and his sister. You did great.”

You smile, shaking your head. “I did what I had to do.”

He nods, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I know honey. Also…um…”

You look up at him, brow raised in curiosity. “Yes baby?”

“Are you busy this Friday night?”

You laugh a little. “I mean I assumed I was going to be with my boyfriend. Why?”

He flushes a deep red. “Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come to dinner with me? Like…at my family home?”

You push yourself off of him, turning to look him in the eye. “What?”

He winces a little out of embarrassment. “Well I told my family that you were my girlfriend and they want to meet you.”

“Shawn!” You exclaim, hitting him lightly in the shoulder. “You told them about me?”

He flushes, clearly flustered and he pulls you back into him, burying your face in his chest, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I did. I thought about what you said, about what would happen if you met my dad. I just…maybe I’m hopeful? But I’d like to think that once they see how much I love you, and how much you love me, that maybe it wouldn’t matter who your father is. My father…he’s cruel, but I don’t think he’ll be  _that_  cruel. And my mom and sister want to meet the girl who’s locked me down.”

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your face despite the nervous butterflies in your stomach. “And did you…did you tell them about who I was? About my dad?”

He nods. “My dad isn’t very happy. He kind of didn’t speak to me about it for a few days, but I told him about the fight you two had. About Danny and about how you stood up for me. He’s impressed. Says he’s suspicious but he wants to meet you. And this Friday we’ll be at the family home for dinner, so it’d be the perfect time to introduce you.”

You go quiet. You’ve never been nervous to meet a boyfriend’s family before. Harris , your ex boyfriend of over a year, introduced you to his family about six months in and they were wonderful. Your first boyfriend Jamison also had extremely nice parents, so you’d never felt nervous about something like this before.

But then again, Harris’ parents owned seven major European car dealerships in the state, and Jamison’s parents worked on Wall Street.

Neither of them were in the mafia, or the sworn enemy of your father.

“I can’t wait for you to meet them.” Shawn says, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I know that they’re going to love you.”

You could only pray he was right.

-

You sat nervously shaking your leg in your seat at the dining table, trying to chew and swallow without the butterflies in your stomach making you vomit everything back up.

So far the night had been going well - from the minute Shawn pulled into the gated driveway of his family home, he tried to make you feel as at ease as possible. He had turned to smile at you once the car was parked and off, resting a hand on your thigh and kissing you sweetly.

“Relax baby.” He said. “I promise you, nothing’s going to go wrong. They’d never hurt you. I won’t let them.”

When you walked up the marble steps and Shawn opened the door, the immediate smell of delicious food wafting through the air welcomed you, along with the sound of music playing, all the lights were on, and it made it feel that much more like a home.

Definitely a lot different than the home you grew up in.

You smile at Shawn, butterflies in your stomach as he rests a hand on your thigh, continuing to eat as the conversation flowed.

On your other side sat his younger sister Aaliyah, and directly across from you was Shawn’s mother, Karen. Both women had been delightfully sweet and kind to you the minute you walked through the door, Karen handing you a glass of wine and Aaliyah whisking you away to the kitchen to get embarrassing stories of her brother and steal a bite of the pão de queijo Shawn’s father had set out to cool.

Shawn’s father had been the biggest worry of your night.

He had walked into the kitchen while you, Shawn, and Aaliyah were watching a video on Aaliyah’s phone of her skating in hockey practice, and the three of you froze, waiting for his reaction.

Manuel gave you a tight lipped smile and said “Hello. You must be her.”

Shawn frowned, going to correct him but you just nodded. “That would be me. It’s nice to finally meet you, Manuel.”

“Likewise.” He replied, then squinted a little, grinning slightly. “You don’t look anything like your father.”

“I know,” you responded with a small grin of your own. “I get most of my looks from my mother.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best then?”

There was a tense silence, but you broke it, saying “Well there’s a reason I don’t carry the DeLuca last name.”

Manuel paused, then let out a hearty laugh, pointing at you as he told Shawn. “She’s alright, this one.”

But that didn’t stop the nerves. If anything, it made you even /more/ nervous, afraid that you’d mess it up, or that Manuel would change his mind. Breaking the ice didn’t mean that you were accepted, and especially in this lifestyle, in the culture, there wasn’t a real way to guarantee that you were in unless it was explicitly said so by the boss.

Meaning Manuel.

He said you were “alright,” but so did your grandfather about a lot of men who ended up dead.

Manuel must sense your anxiety, because he looks at you and nods as he takes a sip of his beer. “So, my dear. Tell me, Shawn says that you’re currently working with the GQ office here in New York. What are you doing?”

“I’m helping them with their content for the year, so I’m doing interviews and research for articles as well as serving as a part time editor. I also work for Vice and Complex as part of their social media team.”

“And she models on the side.” Aaliyah chimes in, smiling.

“Is Journalism something you’re interested in?” Manuel asks, raising a slight brow.

“I’m interested in the truth, and finding the right ways to tell it.”

He hums appreciatively. “And I understand you’re supposed to interview Shawn for one of these articles?”

“We’re actually supposed to interview one another.” You say. “The interview is supposed to focus on how people in positions of power use their platforms to give back to their communities instead of just living selfishly in luxury. Angela, my boss, thought Shawn would be a good candidate because of how much he does as part of Mendes and Associates.”

“Does Angela know that the daughter of DeLuca Investments is interviewing the son of Mendes and Associates?”

“Dad.” Shawn says in warning.

“No, it’s okay.” You say, looking back to Manuel. “My siblings and I carry my mother’s maiden name because my mother wanted it that way. She didn’t want us associated with the DeLuca business as well as the family business, or my father, and personally? Neither do I. I’ve never been part of DeLuca investments. No one knows that my father has children, and we’d like to keep it that way. Angela knows me for the work that I’ve chosen to do, for who I am. She has no clue who my father is, and truth be told? I don’t think it matters.”

“Why is that?”

“Because she’s clearly not her father’s daughter, honey.” Karen says, placing a hand on Manuel’s shoulder with a frown. “Your problems with Angelo shouldn’t be projected onto his children. Especially when Shawn has told you multiple times how amazing she is, and that her and her father don’t have a relationship.”

“Forgive me,” he says, talking directly to you. “But I just can’t believe that. Your father and I have feuded for decades. You expect me to believe that hasn’t had an affect on your relationship with my son?”

“It has.” You say, placing your hands on the table, fingers interlaced. “Believe me, I’ve considered the ways in which your conflict with Angelo could affect Shawn and I. In fact, I turned Shawn away at first because I didn’t want to cause any more trouble. But your son convinced me that those things didn’t matter. And he’s right. They don’t. My father threatened to disown me if I chose to continue to see Shawn, and I told him that I didn’t care. He can’t tell me who I can and can’t be with.” You take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“I’ve stuck up for your son and gone against my blood because I love Shawn, and he loves me. And to be quite honest, Manuel, I don’t care what you have against my father. I’m not my father, and I’m definitely not my father’s daughter. I love you son, and he loves me, and there isn’t anything that could change that. I understand your apprehension towards me, and I don’t blame you, but you can’t punish Shawn for this. You can’t hate me for choosing to reciprocate the feelings your son has for me.”

Manuel looks shocked, but his face reverts to a stoic expression, and the dinner table remains silent.

Shawn has his hand on your thigh under the table to comfort you, and Aaliyah and Karen are looking between you and Manuel with worried expressions.

No one says another word.


	7. Chapter 7

The restaurant is empty save for Manuel, Angelo, and their respective bodyguards. The bosses each take a seat facing one another at a table in the center of the dining area, and Angelo frowns at Manuel.

“I take it you’ve met my daughter.” Angelo says.

“She’s a lovely girl.” Manuel says, knowing there’s no use in denying it. “Kind, intelligent, brave, clearly takes after her mother. Works for GQ, Vice, Complex, models, even co-owns a boutique with the daughter of the Steinfeld family. Your daughter’s brilliant, rightly so.”

Angelo snarls. “I take it you approve then, of their little rendezvous.”

Manuel rolls his eyes. “My son is clearly in love with your daughter. And from what I gathered from them at dinner, your daughter didn’t want to be with my son at first because she was worried about what you and I would think, and then they both realized they didn’t care what we thought. Because their relationship hasn’t hurt anyone.”

“Oh it hasn’t? Your son beat up one of my employee’s son.”

“Because your employee’s son swung first. You know the rules Angelo, the game hasn’t changed. Your daughter chose to defend him because she loves him. And my son protected her because he loves her. They made that extremely clear to me, and your daughter told me about the same thing she apparently told you - I can’t hate her or punish her for loving someone, even if that someone is my son. And honestly? I can’t say I don’t approve.”

“Then why are we here, Manuel?”

“I’m here to tell you that I support my son and your daughter in a relationship together, and that their relationship doesn’t change the fact that I still think you’re a low life rat who belongs in the gutter.” Manuel says, smiling at the end of his sentence. “But, I’m also here to tell you to get your head out of your ass and open your eyes. You only think of yourself, Angelo. In your marriage, your needs came first and that was how you lost your wife. And now, you’re going to lose your children. Your sons and daughter think you’re selfish and obnoxious and they choose with a sound mind not to be associated with you in anyway. Don’t you think that’s a problem?”

“If you’re trying to rub it in my face that my daughter is on your side then-“

“Oh for fucks sake, Angelo.  _There are no sides._  Don’t you get it? Our children are in love because they chose to be, not to further anger you and I. They know the consequences they could have faced when they got together - and guess what? They didn’t care. And neither should we. You’ve seen how Romeo and Juliet ends, Angelo. Frankly, if you don’t open your eyes and put your heartlessness aside, it might end that way.”

“Not if we keep them apart.”

“There is  _no_  keeping them apart. Don’t you know how they met? They’re neighbors. My son unknowingly bought the house right next to hers.”

“So when she told me I could take her house-“

“It didn’t matter, because he has his. And she could live with him. But she didn’t. Instead she got a hotel room while she waited for all of her bills to transfer into her name so you could back off. And I agree. You should back off.”

Angelo stands in anger. “So you’re asking me to what, pardon you?”

“First of all, you’re going to lower your tone and sit down so we can finish this conversation like adults. And second of all, I am only asking that when it comes to their relationship, you will grant me the same courtesy I will grant you. When your daughter is around, I will think of her as her own person, and my feelings towards you will not extend to her. Because she is not you. And I expect you to do the same for my son. My son, who loves her and protects her and cares for her. You will not treat him the way you treat me, because he’s not me.”

“You want them to be neutral ground.” Angelo says, finally listening past his ego.

“Switzerland.” Manuel confirms. “Whatever issues we have will not affect them. Whatever business we conduct will not affect them.”

“And if it does?”

Manuel narrows his eyes. “As I said before. You know how Romeo and Juliet ends. I don’t want that for either of them. Do you?”

Angelo sighs, shaking his head. “No I don’t. I’m going to regret saying this, but you’re right.”

“I know I am. Now seal the deal.”

Angelo sighs, taking out a pocket knife and making a small open cut on his palm. He hands the knife to Manuel, who does the same before they shake hands, making the agreement official with a blood oath.

“Remember this.” Manuel says. “Remember what you agreed to, because if you break the agreement, you pay with your life.”

-

Something stirs you from your sleep, bringing you to that place of in between slumber and being awake, and you can recognize the gentle touch of Shawn’s thumb rubbing circles into your bare stomach, his soft breathing against your neck, his front flush against your back as he cuddles you close.

“What is it baby?” You murmur.

He chuckles quietly. “Nothing, I just realized I left my bathroom light on and I can see it from here. I’m debating on whether or not to go turn it off.”

You open one eye to see the faint glow of Shawn’s bathroom through your bedroom window that peers into his, and laugh quietly.

“Don’t go,” you say, placing your hand over where his rests on your stomach.

After all of your finances went into your name and not Angelo’s, Shawn was quick to help you settle back into your place and get you out of that hotel. It’s been two weeks since you’ve been back, and Shawn’s enjoyed every second of it, loves being back into the swing of you both occupying each other’s spaces.

He just hates that it isn’t the  _same_ shared space.

So he’s brought up moving in together once or twice.

“If we both had the same place, I wouldn’t have to.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. He gets out of bed, going to close your curtains and rid himself of the light that kept him awake. When he climbs back into bed, he immediately reaches for you, pulling you back into him and cuddling up again.

“Maybe when this place is paid off.” You say, yawning.

“I’ll pay it off.” He says, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder. “I’ll pay for everything if it means you get to be mine.”

“I’m already yours. Also, I’m pretty sure that’s kind of illegal, buying me and all.”

Shawn laughs. “Not buying you, just taking care of my girl.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know. It’s sexy as fuck.”

You laugh now, turning in his arms and nuzzling into his neck, his natural scent calming you, warming you under the blankets. Your hands find his sides, rubbing them gently with your thumbs. “We gotta get going on that interview you know.”

He groans. “But why? It’s not due for another two weeks.”

“Exactly.” You say. “If we get it over with now, we can spend the next two weeks doing something more productive.”

“Like-”

You headbutt his chest. “Don’t finish that sentence you perv.”

“You know me so well.” Shawn says, kissing your temple. “Just wanna love on you all day.”

“Yeah well pick a different day, tomorrow we’re getting this interview done.”

-

You turn your head slightly, opening your mouth to take the spoonful of soup Shawn offers you before turning back to your computer, finishing the article and sending it off to Angela.

“There.” You say. “A ten thousand word interview and write up about your activism, philanthropic, and humanitarian work as an influencer in New York City, along with a Jeffersonian transcription of the recorded interview and references.”

Shawn raises a brow. “Was any of that even English?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute Mendes.”

He growls playfully, putting the bowl of soup down, pushing your laptop to the side and launching himself at you, laying you down on his couch. “I thought I was pretty cute the first night I came to your house, wasn’t I?”

His large hand slips under your shirt, tracing a line under your breasts. Your breath hitches and he smirks, knowing he’s got your right where he wants you. “You thought I was cute, when I got on my knees, got between your legs…” His voice is barely above a whisper as he hikes your shirt up, pressing soft kisses to your belly, never breaking eye contact. “When I licked your  _sweet_ -”

“ _Shawn_ ” You whine, tugging at his curls and hauling him up, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him deeply. He chuckles half way through the kiss, pressing smaller kisses to your lips before he backs up, propping himself up on his forearms and smiling down at you.

“Yes my love?”

“I-”

You’re cut off by a knock on Shawn’s door, and he raises a brow at you. “Did you order food?”

You shake your head. “No, did you?”

“No.”

Both of you visibly tense up.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone.” He says.

“Neither was I.” You say, and you both get up quickly as another knock lands. Shawn goes into his little coat closet by the door, grabbing one of Niall’s golf clubs that he left behind, and you grab Shawn’s hockey stick resting behind it.

He chuckles, and you raise a brow at him. “What exactly is funny about this?”

Shawn motions to the ‘weapons’ you both are wielding. “We’re the children of mob bosses - this doesn’t feel a little ironic to you?”

You give him a “what the fuck Shawn,” look, and he shrugs. “Well it is!”

“Just open the door!”

He motions for you to get behind him and you do, clutching the stick in your fists. When Shawn opens it, you can’t see who’s on the other side, but you do see Shawn clutching the golf club behind his back. “Can I help you?” He asks, voice on defense.

“Uh…is my sister here?”

That voice brings recognition, and you shove Shawn aside, stepping into view of the doorway and staring at your older brother in confusion.

“Leo? What are you doing here?”

“Well I knocked on your but you didn’t answer. And I remember that you told Mathias and I that Shawn lived next door to you, so I thought I’d try his door, and it worked.”

You shake your head, handing Shawn his hockey stick back. “No, I mean what brings you over?”

“Oh,” Leo says, holding up a brown paper take out bag. “I brought you dinner. It’s Taco Tuesday, remember?” He says with a sheepish smile.

“Oh,” you sigh, smiling back at him. Every first Tuesday of the month, Leo would come over for Taco Tuesday night, grabbing tacos from your favorite truck in town. “I’m sorry, I must’ve forgot.” You look at Leo and realize he’s looking over your shoulder, his face unreadable. You glance behind you, where Shawn is standing with the same look on his face.

You roll your eyes, stepping back so you’re beside Shawn. “Leo, this is Shawn, my boyfriend. Shawn, this is my older brother Leo.”

Shawn sticks out his hand. “Nice to finally meet you man.”

Leo returns the handshake, smile creeping at the corner of his mouth. “You too. So you’re the dude who made her go all Juliet on my father.”

Shawn smirks at you. “ _See._ ”

“Oh whatever.” You say, grabbing the bag from Leo and heading inside to the kitchen. Shawn motions for Leo to come in, and shuts the door behind him, showing Leo where to put his shoes and keys.

The boys pile into the kitchen as you take the tacos out, Shawn helping you get plates and hot sauce while Leo takes a seat at one of the barstools at the kitchen island.

“Beer?” Shawn asks Leo, who nods, and Shawn hands him a cold one from the fridge.

The three of you dig into the tacos, Leo telling the two of you about a date Mathias went on last week with a girl that he met at a bar, Shawn listening and watching the two of you interact attentively.

“She told him she wants three kids and a set of twins.” Leo states, taking a bite of his taco.

“On a first date?” You ask, incredulous. Shawn takes a bite out of your rice and refried beans when he thinks you’re not looking, and you gently swat him on the arm, pulling your plate closer to you.

“Yeah,” Leo chuckles. “She thoroughly scared the shit out of him. She hasn’t stopped texting him for another date. He’s scared shitless.”

You shake your head. “He never was very good at telling people no.”

“He was hoping you’d help him, give the girl a good DeLuca shake down.”

Shawn pipes up at that, raising a curious brow at you. “DeLuca shake down?”

You groan, and Leo gives a loud and hearty laugh. “Oh you haven’t seen it? It’s great! When Mathias and I were younger and brought over people we didn’t really like, she’d go all guard dog! She’s really good at verbally intimidating people you know. All it would take was telling her that we didn’t want someone around, and she’d talk to them for five minutes and then they’d never bother us again.”

Shawn whips his head toward you, eyes alight with interest. “What did you say to them?”

You sigh, picking at a lime wedge. “I only told them that my brothers didn’t want anything to do with them, and if they didn’t go away, then I’d make them go away.”

Shawn laughs. “And that worked?! You, short and cute and the least bit intimidating - you scared these people shitless?”

You narrow your eyes, and Shawn shrinks back a little. “I’ll have you know I was extremely intimidating.”

“She may be small,” Leo says, gathering up his dishes, “but she is mighty and fierce. I’d watch your back, Mendes. Don’t cross this one.” He points to you, then ruffles your hair a little bit.

You shake your head, standing and grabbing all of the dishes, shooing the boys away to the couch while you cleaned up the kitchen.

-

It’s later that night when Leo is knocked out on Shawn’s recliner, snoring quietly with his head bent in an awkward position. You’re snuggled up into Shawn’s side, his hand running through your hair gently as “Supergirl” plays on TV.

“Leo’s pretty cool.” He murmurs.

“You think so?”

He nods, twirling a strand of hair around his fingers. “He’s like you. Your personalities I mean, you guys are definitely related.”

You laugh. “I could say the same about you and Aaliyah.”

“I know,” he says. “And from the sounds of it, Mathias is just like you two as well.”

“He is.” You say. “Our mom, she’s to thank for that. She kinda made the three of us out to be the Three Musketeers.”

“Minus D'Artagnan?”

“Minus D’Artagnan.” You confirm, tipping your head back and closing your eyes when Shawn’s nails scratch your scalp as they run through your hair.

“I want to meet him, too.”

You open your eyes, looking up at Shawn. “You want to meet my brother? Mathias?”

Shawn shrugs. “Well yeah. Of course. I want to meet everyone. Your brothers, your mom, whatever best friend you may have that I don’t know about. Even…” His voice trails off, shaking his words away. It makes you sit up, pulling away from him a little to look at his face.

“What is it?” You say.

“There’s something you should know.” He says, a little uneasy. “Something that happened a few days ago. I…I should’ve told you earlier, the minute I knew, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

You frown slightly, repeating “What is it?”

“My dad. He uh…he summoned yours.”

Your eyes go wide, and remembering that Leo is asleep, you can only manage to hiss out a small “What?!” You shove him a little. “And you weren’t going to tell me?!”

“Okay now I can see why Leo said you were small but fierce.”

“Shawn!” You hiss again, and he raises his hands in surrender.

“Listen, I didn’t want to tell you because it wasn’t something I wanted you to worry about. And nothing bad happened. I swear! My dad just…he made Angelo swear on a blood oath, and-”

“A  _what_?!”

“Listen!” Shawn says, hauling you up and into the kitchen as to not wake Leo. You lean against the counter, arms crossed over in anger.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Will you let me finish?” He says. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“A blood oath is a big deal, Shawn. It’s also highly unsanitary!”

“Will you relax please? As I was saying, it wasn’t a big deal. My dad just talked to your dad, figured he’d talk some sense into him?”

“Sense?”

“My dad told Angelo that he approves of our relationship. And convinced him that Angelo should support it to. He promised your father that he wouldn’t treat you like you were a DeLuca so long as Angelo would give me the same respect, and not treat me like the son of Manuel Mendes, but my own person, just as Shawn.”

Your eyes bug out of your head. “Your father convinced Angelo to do this? And to seal it with an oath?”

“Yes.”

“And no one got hurt? No one died?”

“No no one died!” Shawn exclaims. He approaches you, gently placing his hands on your shoulders. “Listen honey, the reason that I’m telling you all of this is because I was trying to make a point.”

“Okay, and your point is?”

He sighs, hanging his head before looking at you, a serious look on his face. “I was telling you that I want to meet everyone. Your brothers, your mom, and even-”

“ _No_ ” You say, realization dawning on you.

He nods, taking a deep breath and saying “I want to meet your dad. I want to meet Angelo.”


	8. Chapter 8

“It’s brilliantly written! You did such a great job!”

You smile to yourself, fiddling with a box of earrings. “Thank you, Angela. I’m glad it’s well received.”

“No thank  _you_  for agreeing to write this! And for being so patient with Shawn! He called me you know, to talk about how the interview went.”

You raise a brow, taking a pair of teardrop earrings and placing them in the display case. “Oh? I wasn’t aware.”

Angela giggles. “It seems he’s pretty fond of you, you know. I think you ought to pursue that.”

You fake gasp. “Angela!”

She cackles. “Just a suggestion! Anyway, I’ll let you get back to the boutique. Thank you again for the article! It’ll be out in next month’s issue.”

“No problem, thank you for the opportunity!”

You say your goodbyes and hang up, sighing as you look at the box of earrings. You were trying to expand the boutique - getting designers to agree to sell their products for a lot cheaper than the stuff on Fifth Ave, and you personally didn’t feel like sitting in another meeting, so you told Hailee you would be at the boutique for the morning taking care of the inventory in the back so she and Jourdan could go out and meet with other designers.

The boutique was closed, which left you to your own devices - playing music over the system as you took your time placing each unique earring in the display case until the box was empty. You were about to move on to the next box when there was a knock at the loading dock door, and you rolled your eyes.

“Hailee I keep telling you to  _remember_  your key-”

Your words are cut off when you see that familiar smile, brown eyes soft and curls tucked under a baseball cap turned backwards. He’s wearing black sweats and a plain white tee, and there’s a pizza box in his hands, along with a bag of drinks.

“Hi baby.” He says with a grin.

A smile instantly spreads on your face. “Shawn, what are you doing here?”

“Wanted to bring you lunch.” His smile is unwavering, soft when he looks at you and takes in you in your favorite pair of jeans and an old t-shirt from your time in undergrad. He steps closer, bending his head for a kiss that you immediately grant, fisting the fabric of his shirt and pulling him in.

He hums into the kiss and pulls back after a second, and you lead him into the shop and toward the front where there’s an empty display table. He helps you grab plates and napkins from the little kitchenette in the break room, and you two sit on some of the rolling chairs from the back office to dig in to the pizza.

You look up at Shawn every now and again as you guys finish the whole box, and he smiles at you, but there’s something wrong, the bags under his eyes, the way he’s chewing slowly, how his eyelids droop a little - it tells you how exhausted he is, that something else is going on. You didn’t spend the night together last night, so you know it’s not because you both were too busy doing other things to get some sleep.

You put down your crust and wipe your face and hands clean with a napkin, fingers brushing his when you say “Shawn, honey, what’s going on?”

He smiles weakly. “You see right through me, huh?” He puts his pizza down and takes a swig of his can of ginger ale. “It’s nothing baby, don’t worry. Just some stuff with the company.”

“Stuff like what?”

“Some FBI agents came to the company this morning. They were looking for my dad.”

Your heart drops. “The investigation.”

You remember briefly talking about it with Shawn at that formal event a few months ago, the same one where Angela assigned you to one another, and also where you had that little rendezvous in the empty corner office.

He nods, taking off his cap to run his hand through his hair before re-adjusting it over his curls. “I was in a meeting this morning with a few people from the Mendes foundation about planning another benefit when they came in. They demanded to speak to me, and then my dad, but my dad wasn’t there.”

“Where is he?”

Shawn shrugs. “No clue. I texted him and called him once the agents left but he didn’t respond. All I know is that he wasn’t in the office this morning. So the agents chose to interrogate me instead.”

You gasp a little. “What?”

Shawn nods. “For like an hour. About literally everything. How my father introduced me to the foundation, how long I’ve been involved, they wanted a list of all transactions made between the Mendes Foundation and our business partners.” He groans, placing his head in his hands. “It was the most stressful hour of my life.”

“Did they…what about the _family business_  transactions?”

He sighs. “Those come directly from a Swiss bank account, not under my name, my father’s name, or anyone in our family. And as far as I know, my dad has someone who monitors that account, and monitors the monitoring of that account. The FBI won’t pick up on that.”

You rub his forearm, trying to find the words to comfort him. To your knowledge, your father was mostly out of the radar of any government agency, so you never had to deal with something on this scale. But…this was different. And when your father heard that Manuel was being investigated, he voiced his concerns with being next.

Hell, you’re sure every mafia family in New York was afraid of being next. If the FBI could bring Manuel Mendes down, they could take anyone down.

“Hey,” you say, pulling him from his thoughts. “How about we get dessert? I know a great little cart that sells crepes by Bethesda Terrace.”

Shawn raises a brow at you. “In Central Park?”

You nod, already grabbing your things to leave and lock up the store.

“But babe, don’t you have inventory?”

You roll your eyes, already sending off a text to the girls. “Hailee And Jourdan can finish it. I’ve done over half. Besides, I think this qualifies as being more important than the boutique.”

“But your car?”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll pay to park. Honestly Shawn, quit worrying and let me help you relax.”

-

Shawn smiles at you through a mouthful of his strawberry, banana, and nutella crepe, bumping his knee against yours. It’s a nice enough day, and you’re sitting on the backside of the fountain looking out to the pond. There’s a group that’s singing under the Minton Tiles behind you, and the busy summer season brings a lot of park goers who are also out and about, but right here, with Shawn, he looks at you like you’re the only two for miles.

He people watches for a bit as you both finish your crepes and waters, and when you get up to throw your trash away you start to head back to the garage where you parked your car, but Shawn tugs on your shirt sleeve, pointing out toward the lake with a childish grin.

You raise a brow at him, pointing toward the path that leads to the boathouse. “You wanna go row a boat together?”

He nods, lacing his fingers through yours and tugging you down the way. After paying for the rowboat rental, you two settle in and Shawn takes you by surprise when he grabs both oars and starts to row you both out.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” You say.

He laughs. “I saw ‘The Notebook’ when I was sixteen and thought that boat scene would be a way to impress girls.”

“Did it work?”

“You tell me,” he bats his eyelashes at you. “You’re the first girl I’ve actually tried it on.”

It’s a nice distraction for awhile - the both of you using the hour on the lake to enjoy the sun, you rubbing Shawn’s calf absentmindedly as he rows you both along. Once you dock and get out, Shawn is visibly happier, pulling you close into his side and pressing a kiss to your hair as you head back to the garage.

You’re enjoying his company when your phone vibrates in your pocket, a notification popping up that confirms your seaside house reservation on Cape May in New Jersey.

It makes you so happy that you stop in your tracks, wide smile on your face that has Shawn giving you a questioning look.

Shawn’s turning twenty two soon, and you wanted to celebrate his birthday in a private retreat to help him relieve some stress. You didn’t really know what to do at first - as much as Shawn loves a good party you know when it comes to a vacation he’s definitely the type of guy who likes to swim, be outside, and then relax by a fire and sleep in a comfy bed. You’d been to Cape May a few times before, and figured that would be a good option for him.

“What is it honey?” He asks, shaking you a little in a plea for your attention.

“Oh nothing, just your birthday plans being solidified.” You sing-song.

Shawn raises a brow at you. “My birthday plans?” You ignore the question and start to tow him toward the direction of the garage but Shawn’s planted his feet in the pavement, his hand tugging you back into his chest. “Baby you didn’t have to do anything for my birthday.”

“I wanted to.” You say. “I mean, I know you’ve been busy lately, and I just wanted to give you a little while to relax and focus on yourself. Besides, now that this investigation is back, I feel like it’s the perfect thing to get both of our minds off of all this family drama.”

He stares at you thoughtfully for a long moment before he smiles, kissing you on the forehead and wrapping you up into a tight hug. “Thank you.” He murmurs. “I can’t wait.”

-

You’re relaxing in the hot tub, a glass of champagne in one hand, the other grabbing fruit from the floating tray Shawn brought for this exact purpose. Your legs rest in his lap and he’s got his hands massaging your calves, his entire body exuding a feeling of relaxation.

The two of you have been in Cape May for a few days now - most of it filled with being at the beach, exploring some of the shops, and eating at some of the local restaurants. All the hustle and bustle wore you both out, so you settled for a relaxing day at the beach house, Shawn making you both dinner on the grill.

Once the sun’s gone down and you’ve both pruned up enough, you head back inside to shower and change, getting ready for bed. You settle in together under the covers and Shawn puts a movie on, maneuvering you so you can rest between his legs, back against his chest as he plays with your hair.

“Thank you for this.” He says quietly as he rests against the headboard.

“I haven’t even given you your actual birthday gift yet.” You chuckle, leaning into his touch.

“You’re my birthday gift.” Shawn kisses your shoulder. “You and this vacation is enough.”

“Well then I’ll just have to sneak them into your house when you’re not looking,” you say, thinking of the denim jacket, shirts, hoodie, and black boots you got him from YSL.

“That’s fair.” There’s a pause, and you can tell he wants to say something else. You give him the time, letting a few moments pass before he clears his throat.

“Are you having fun?”

You turn in his arms to face him. “Of course I am. Are you?”

He nods, kissing the tip of your nose. “Are you happy out here? Like…relaxing here?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I am too.”

You smile. “Well good, that’s the point of all this.”

“We should move out here.”

You chuckle. “We should?”

“Yeah. Just pack up and go. You know? Screw a week long getaway when we can just  _get away._  From all of it. Away from the family businesses, away from the Feds, away from investigations, away from the drama, all of it.”

“Oh yeah? And what would we do out here?”

“Could start another bar. Maybe turn ‘The Ring’ into a franchise. We’d have to change it obviously, to fit the beach aesthetic, and we probably couldn’t call it ‘The Ring’ since that’s technically a speakeasy…so yeah, a bar.”

You giggle. “Alright, so a bar on Cape May. Anything else?”

“You and the girls could maybe bring your boutique out here, liven up the place.” He says. “I could do the bar, you run the boutique, we’d be the power couple of Cape May.”

“That sounds very regal.”

“Only the best for you, obviously.” You shrug, and he shakes you a little. “I’m serious. I want us to leave Long Island, leave New York. Don’t you?”

You smile softly at him. “I’d go anywhere with you, you know that.”

He settles back against the headboard, caressing your face softly. “I’d take you around the world if I could.” He’s quiet again, but only for a minute. “I just don’t know what to do. I can’t…I can’t keep living like we are. I love my family, but I feel like I’m suffocating in this business. I love working for the foundation, but I hate that at night I have to help my father run his  _real_  business.”

You search his eyes, frowning a little when you see the internal struggle. “Is this because of the investigation?”

Shawn shakes his head. “I know I tell you I’m sick of it all the time. But the investigation is kind of…I don’t know, a catalyst? This is like, my worst nightmare. And I don’t want to deal with what all the other mob families in New York have to deal with. I don’t want to be in and out of interrogation rooms for the next ten years. I just…I want it to be over.”

You frown. You can’t say you disagree - your mother feared Angelo being taken in by the FBI for years, which gave you and your brothers the same fear. The fact that Shawn’s father is on the chopping block is terrifying, and your heart breaks for him.

By the sounds of it, the investigation has only started, and from what you knew about it before from your man on the inside, they were mostly just looking into his business dealings, and struggled trying to find the right evidence against Manuel that would be substantial enough to even begin an investigation.

Whatever they were looking for, they must have found it.

“I promise you’ll be fine.” You say. “Your family will be fine. And so will you, and I’ll be here through all of it.”

-

You walk hand in hand with Shawn up the driveway toward the Mendes home for Shawn’s birthday dinner. It’s been a few days since you’ve gotten back from Cape May, and they’ve been a rough few days. You’ve been by his side as much as possible, trying to keep him level headed, but it can only work so much.

You figured if anything was going to cheer him up, it would be a nice home cooked meal with his family.

There’s plenty of feijoada and pão de queijo that Manuel made himself, and Shawn definitely seems to be in better spirits.

Until there’s a knock on the door during dessert.

Aaliyah goes to answer it, and immediately calls out to her parents. When she comes back into the dining room, she’s followed by an older woman in a suit carrying a large file, and an FBI agent, one that the family recognizes, judging by the expression on their faces.

“Julia.” Manuel demands, standing up from his spot at the head of the table. “What is this?”

The woman, Julia, frowns. “I’m so sorry to barge in like this.” She smiles kindly to Shawn, says “Especially on your birthday,” before turning back to Manuel. “You all know FBI Agent Connolly. He’s only here with an offer.”

“You’re my lawyer. Can’t he give you the offer?” Manuel says, gesturing between the two of them.

“I thought you’d want to hear this yourself.” She says.

Karen, although clearly upset, has Julia and Agent Connolly sit at the table.

“I’m not here to arrest you, or cause you any trouble.” Agent Connolly starts. “I’m here to offer you an out.”

“I’m listening.” Manuel says.

Agent Connolly grabs the file from Julia’s hands. “As you know, we’ve begun an investigation into Mendes and Associates. We’re aware of the actual business company as well as your little uh…’side business,’ and while the company isn’t an issue, the side business is where you get caught up.”

He opens the file, laying out a few documents and pictures. “We don’t have anything on you  _yet_ , but in order to give you the out, we need a favor. We’re investigating the Giovanni family.”

You share a look with Shawn that thankfully goes unnoticed.

“According to our findings, we have reason to believe that the Giovanni family is in business with Bratva boss Nikolai Sokolov, specifically the drug trade. We think that the Giovanni family is using their daughter Rebecca’s makeup line to transport drugs overseas as a discreet tactic, but we also have reason to believe they’re transporting drugs bipedally.”

You visibly wince.

Manuel frowns. “What?”

“He means they’re putting the drugs in people. Live people.” Shawn explains. “Then they’re shipping them overseas. It’s drug trafficking and human trafficking, but on the surface it just looks like the latter.”

Agent Connolly nods. “We’re aware that not too long ago, Shawn was mentioned in an article that Rebecca Giovanni did. We thought that you’d possibly have some information, but I can see through our last conversations that that wasn’t the case. However, that doesn’t completely clear you from our radar.”

“Well why the fuck not?” Aaliyah demands, and you pull her down into the chair next to you gently, shaking your head at her. If this guy’s here for an offer, sass isn’t exactly going to get that offer out any faster.

Agent Connolly sighs, looking up at Manuel. “Would you like to tell them, or should I?”

Karen narrows her eyes at her husband. “What is he talking about?”

Shawn frowns. “Dad…the merger…tell me you didn’t.”

Manuel’s shoulder slump. “He offered me $9.5 million per year, for five years. It was a solid deal with Sokolov and Company. I has to agree.”

“It’s a solid business deal on paper.” Agent Connolly says. “But the money you wired him to seal the deal two months ago was in his account for less than three minutes and now it’s gone. Two days after that two new shipping vessels registered under Sokolov’s name showed up in the harbor claiming they were part of a new imports and exports deal. Then four days later, six people went missing from a homeless shelter, and one of them showed up on the ship yesterday. We have reason to believe the other five will be joining them soon. They’re also scheduled to leave in a few weeks.”

“So you have the evidence against them. Arrest Nikolai Sokolov.” Shawn says.

“I also have evidence against you.” Agent Connolly says. “That money appeared back into Sokolov’s account the day he put the ships under his name. He also wired money to a surgeon who was recently fired for malpractice. All the funds come from you first, Manuel. Because you gave it to him.”

“That doesn’t make me guilty!” Manuel shouts, slamming his hand on the table.

“No, but it can make you an accomplice.” Agent Connolly counters.

“I thought you had an offer.” Shawn says. “What is it?”

“It’s simple, really. Help us with the investigation against the Sokolov’s. Tell us everything you know about them, allow us access to all of the documents relating to your merger, give us everything. If you do, we close your investigation as a sign of good faith, and we can put you under a protection program. You wouldn’t be safe in New York, so we would have to move you to another country. You mentioned you have family in Brazil, Portugal, London, and Canada, so we would be able to settle you there for asylum.”

“And if we don’t go?” Karen asks.

Agent Connolly sighs. “If you stay, Manuel goes to jail, and Shawn would have to testify against him, that is, if he doesn’t want to share a jail cell with him.”

There’s a heavy silence that lasts for awhile.

“Julia’s fully aware of this. She can help you work out the logistics. But we need a decision before those ships leave New York.”

He stands to leave, heading for the door, and at the last second, you follow him, calling out his name. Agent Connolly turns, a small smile at the corner of his lips when he sees you.

“Nice to finally meet you.” He says.

You take a step back. “You know who I am?”

“It’s my job to. You’re the daughter of Angelo DeLuca, head of DeLuca Investments and the DeLuca crime family.” At your surprise, he laughs. “To be fair, we knew Angelo had a daughter. And sons.”

“Is he next?” You ask, ignoring the fear in your heart. “Is my father under your radar?”

Agent Connolly frowns. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Yes you can. It’s a yes or a no.”

He pauses. “…..No. He’s not. Not at the minute. And I can’t say whether he will or won’t be after this.”

You can hear the conversation back in the dining room getting a little worse, and you know you need to go back, but you also know you have to help.

“I have family in Italy. Non-mafia related family. And I have a house in Italy, in my name, left to me from my mother’s father. If Shawn and Manuel agree to help you, can I give you the address and you can get started on protecting the Mendes family? Bugging the house, getting new passports, the works?”

Agent Connolly gives you an appreciative look, and nods firmly. “I can do that.”

“Do I have your word on that?”

“What is it with you mobsters and promises?” He rolls his eyes, but sticks his hand out anyway. “I give you my word.”


	9. Chapter 9

Your front door opens then shuts with a slam, and Shawn comes into the kitchen not long after, panting, red in the face, his eyes wild with anxiety. It’s a stark contrast to your calm demeanor as you stand at your kitchen island, mixing cookie dough while the soundtrack to “Cinderella” plays quietly in the background.

“Shawn, are you okay?” You ask, frowning.

He raises a brow, annoyed. “How are you  _not_ okay?”

You sigh. You were baking in an attempt to calm your stress. What with the FBI’s proposition for protection, and your offer to Agent Connolly of giving the Mendes family the home left to your by your mother’s side, things had begin to stir.

Even if they refused to help the FBI, Manuel knew that they would eventually come and knock their door down, whether it be within the next day, week, or year. After Agent Connolly left the Mendes house two weeks ago, the family launched into a heated argument - one that ended with Karen deciding for everyone.

Manuel and Shawn would cooperate with the FBI and tell them everything about the merger with Nikolai Sokolov, hand over every file and document that was necessary to bring Sokolov and the Bratva in New York down, and bring down the Giovanni family as well - including Rebecca and her shoddy makeup line.

Only after they helped would the family decide on whether or not they would take up your offer and leave to your house in Italy.

That decision had you on the edge of your seat for the last two weeks. You didn’t want them to leave. Didn’t want Shawn to leave. You ran through every option in your head, talked to your brothers about it, asked around to some of your contacts for help, and nothing worked. There was no way the Mendes family could escape this, no way they could stay in New York and not become targets.

No one liked a rat.

But Shawn and his family weren’t rats. They were tricked into a shady business deal, and now your boyfriend was about to either leave the country or go into hiding to avoid being taken down.

Neither choice made you feel good.

“I’m sorry.” You say. “I’m just trying not to panic. That’s why I’m stress baking.” You gesture to the tray of brownies and the tower of cupcakes behind you on the counter, and Shawn shakes his head.

“No, I should be sorry. I just…I wanted to come over and tell you that we did it. My dad and I just finished handing over everything to Agent Connolly.”

You sigh with relief. “That’s great, babe.”

“And we’re gonna do it. We’re going to Italy.”

The whisk drops from your hand, clattering loudly against the bowl.

“Babe?” Shawn calls. You can barely hear him over the pounding in your head.

“I heard you.” You say, picking the whisk up again, adding in the chocolate chips.

Shawn takes a step closer to you. “The Mendes Foundation can stay, but it needs to be renamed.”

He’s at your side suddenly, his hand resting over yours, stopping the whisk. “But I’m not staying to run it. I’m going with my family.”

“I know.” You say quietly, staring into the bowl. You knew this was a possibility, but you still weren’t ready for it.

“Baby.” He murmurs. Shawn gently turns you to face him, cupping your face in his hands, trying to get you to look at him. When you do, he frowns. “Hey,” he says softly. He presses a kiss to your forehead before wrapping you in his arms. “You know I’m not going anywhere without my girl.”

You tense up. “What do you mean?”

He leans back a little to look at you, sheepish smile on his face. “I’m not going to Italy without you. Especially if it’s your house and you’re not there with me.”

You frown again. “Shawn. I don’t know that I can just leave that easily.”

His grip around you loosens. “What?”

“Shawn,” you groan. “I can’t just follow you to Italy.”

“Why the fuck not?” He says angrily, stepping back from you altogether, arms dropping from around you as he takes a step back.

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Because I have a job here? Multiple jobs. And I have the boutique with Hailee and Jourdan, and my family is still here.”

“You and I both know those jobs you have warrant you to travel. You’re not a full time employee and you barely like it. And the boutique runs itself, Hailee and Jourdan can handle it. Plus, you barely even like your family. Your brothers won’t care. Your mom won’t care. And since when do you care what your dad thinks?”

You scoff. “My brothers and my mother would care if I just told them I was going to up and leave to Italy for a  _boy_.”

Shawn looks at you like you just slapped him in the face. “What did you just say?”

“Shawn-”

“Am I not your boyfriend? Are we back to you skirting around what this is? Are we back to you pretending like we don’t have something between us? Like I’m just a weekend _fuck_?”

“Shawn!” You exclaim. “Are you hearing yourself right now? You know that’s not what I meant!”

“Then what did you mean? Because it sounded pretty clear to me. I’m just some  _boy_  to you?!”

“Shawn no. I just meant that my family wouldn’t really be behind me moving to another country because my boyfriend said so.”

“I’m not  _just_  your boyfriend, though. Leo and Mathias know that. I’m sure your mom knows that, since you’ve been talking to her. You know what we have is more than just some regular relationship. I  _love_  you.”

“Shawn I know you do, I just-”

“Do you not want to come with me because you don’t love me?”

You take a large step back. “Excuse me?!”

“Well what else am I supposed to think?! You say you’d go anywhere with me! On Cape May, when I talked about leaving, you said you’d go anywhere with me, you said you’d be here through it all. Were you lying?!” His face is reddening with anger. You’ve never seen him like this before.

“What?! No! I meant what I said!”  _How did this all get so backwards?_ you ask yourself.

“Then why?” Shawn demands, angry tears in his eyes. “I don’t understand. Why won’t you come with me?”

“Because this isn’t just about you, Shawn! I can’t just leave with your family when mine is still here, when they need me!”

Shawn’s face visibly reddens with anger, and he blows. “They  _don’t_ need you! You think they do but they don’t! They’re fine on their own! You can’t use them as a crutch or something to blame when the truth is that you’re just scared. You blamed our families for being the reason we couldn’t see each other in the first place, and it was only because you were scared that you’d actually like me. And then you told me you loved me. Is that still true? Because now you’re using your family as an excuse not to come with me because you’re scared of leaving and being on your own, scared of how good we could be without our families fucking things up.”

Shawn doesn’t give you a chance to defend yourself. “I’ve never been scared. I’ve been aware of the same things you’re afraid of and I never let those things get in the way of how I’ve felt for you. Ever! I never let anything come before you. When you stood up to Danny, to Angelo, to my father, I thought that was a sign you moved past your fears. But I guess I was wrong. You’re still letting the things you’re afraid of, still letting your family, control your life and now it’s affecting our relationship!”

You’re speechless, hurt, and you don’t say anything. How can you?

“When I talked about getting away with you on Cape May. I meant it. I thought you meant it too.”

You search for an answer, but the words get caught in your throat, tears falling from your eyes.

Shawn sighs, tears flowing down his cheeks as he heads for the door, but before he leaves, he turns to you one last time. “My family and I leave in three weeks. If you don’t want to come with me, I’ll wait for you…but it’ll be hard. It might even break my heart. You’re the only girl I’ve ever been in love with. The only girl I’ve ever felt like this about. And if you don’t come…I’ll wait, but I can’t wait forever. Whenever you’re ready, whatever you can give me, I’ll take it. But I would much rather have you by my side.”

-

Leo stares at you from where he sits atop your dresser drawers, watching you as you lay on your back, hanging your head from the edge of the bed. Mathias is resting at the head of your bed, relaxing against the headboard, the window of your bedroom wide open, facing the bedroom window of Shawn’s room, which has the curtains drawn.

He’s not home anyway.

Hasn’t been home in the last two days since you got into that fight in your kitchen.

You still stare at his window, hoping the curtains will open, that he’ll look into your window and see you and everything will be okay.

Leo sighs. “I think you should go to Italy.”

You shut your eyes. You scoot up, allowing your head to rest on the mattress again, blood rushing back to its normal place. “Why?”

“Because you’re going to regret it if you don’t.” He says.

Mathias nudges your side with his foot. “And because he’s right.”

You turn your head to look at him. “He is? About what?”

Mathias levels you with a look, trying to be encouraging. “We don’t  _need_  you. Not in the way he thinks, which is kind of in the way you think. We don’t need you here to like…help us with dad, or protect us, you know? And maybe that’s our fault, for relying on you because you’re the only girl, and since mom left. But you’re an adult, you know? You’re an adult in a serious relationship and this guy…he loves you like crazy. And if you don’t go, you’ll regret it, and you’ll hate yourself for it, and we don’t want you to have to go through that.”

“Plus,” Leo says, and you turn to look at him. “I really like that kid. He’s good for you, and you know it. You’ve been so worried about trying not to be like Dad while simultaneously doing things he would do, like pushing Shawn away because you’re scared of the truth.”

“What’s the truth?” You ask, though you’re pretty sure you already know the answer.

“That you’re in love with him.” Leo says.

“And that you’re going to go to Italy with him, because you know it’s what you want, not what anyone else wants. You think you need to stay here but you don’t. You can go with him, and we’ll love you all the same.” Mathias finishes, resting a hand on your shin.

“There’s that,” Leo says, “and the fact that if you don’t go, we will.”

“Yeah.” Mathias says. “That’s Nonno’s house you got. If you won’t take it, we’ll live with Shawn.”

-

You sigh, shaking off your nerves and knocking on the door.

It’s only seconds later that your mom answers, smiling brightly at you and pulling you into a hug.

You can’t help but cry into her shoulder - you miss her so much. You haven’t seen her since before you and Shawn started dating, and while you update her through texts and phone calls, actually seeing her is a relief. Now that she’s moved to Buffalo, it’s harder for you to visit her, but she wanted it that way - wanted you and your brothers to grow and have lives separate from your parents.

Look how well that turned out for you.

She knows why you’re here, that you’re having a problem with Shawn, and you tell her everything over warm mugs of tea and her famous lemon bars, the latter of which you barely touch because of how torn up you are about all of this.

When you’re done talking, red in the face and crying a little, you look up at her and sigh pathetically.

“Oh sweetie,” she says, a tone in her voice you’ve never heard before. She’s smiling, and she reaches out to take your hand. “Don’t you think it’s time that you branch out? Spread your wings? You can only stay in Long Island for so long. You’re going to have to be able to get out of your fathers range and be your own person.”

You’re shocked. “You’re okay with this? Shawn was right? You’re fine with me going with him to Italy?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She says. “You  _and_  your brothers need to go somewhere other than Long Island - you three may not be on good terms with your father but it’s clear you all still feel ball and chained by him. If this relationship helps you break that while allowing you to fall in love, and go explore who you are, have fun in Italy, then why wouldn’t I support it?”

You sputter for an answer. “But I’d be leaving you behind.”

She shakes her head. “No, you wouldn’t be. You’d be going on your own, starting your own life. Honestly honey, you’re twenty three, about to be twenty four, don’t you think it’s time?”

She leans forward, wrapping you into a hug. “Go be with him sweetie, go be with Shawn. Go to Italy, start a life together. And you’ll come back eventually, you and Shawn. When you’re ready, maybe when you’re both older, you’ll both buy a house on Cape May like you both planned, and everything will be alright. But you’ll never know if you don’t go with him.”

-

This is the last and final time you’re doing this, and it’s probably the worst.

You’ve barely touched your dinner, wine glass still full, and your father sits across the dining table, scowl on his face.

It’s just the two of you for dinner, after you called him and told him you needed to discuss something serious.

You’d just finished telling him everything, and he’s not exactly happy about anything he’s just heard.

“So…are you asking me to help them? Help them stay in the city?” He asks, gesticulating with his hands.

“No.” You say. “I’m here to tell you that I’m going with him. I’m moving to Italy with him and his family. For how long? I’m not sure. But I’m going. I came here to tell you that, and to say goodbye. And, to give you a chance to say goodbye too.”

You can tell he’s upset over everything, and you’re expecting him to push back against your decision, you’re prepared to fight him on it, but he sighs.

“When do they leave?”

“In two weeks.” You say.

“And you’ve already started packing?”

You nod. “I have. Now that the house you bought me is in my name, I’ve contacted the realtor to arrange for someone to rent it out while I’m gone. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but it’s just in case.”

You wait for his response. You’re prepared to fight him on it, to walk out with your head held high knowing you tried everything to get through to your father.

You’re taken by surprised when Angelo breaks down, sighing heavily as tears leave his eyes.

“I knew this day would come.” He says. “The day my daughter grew up and made her own life. As much as I don’t like this, in the end you’re still my daughter. My youngest child and my only girl. I love you, and I want you to be happy. Happy in a way I as your father wasn’t able to do.”

You’re in shock. “So does that mean-”

“Yes. You and Shawn have my blessing. Go to Italy, be with him.”

You can’t help it - you get up and go around the table to hug him, and he returns it back just as tight. “Though, there is something you should know.” He says.

You take a step back, watching him. “Shawn came over on his own the other day. He asked for the same blessing, for me to tell you to go with him.”

“He did what?” You ask, dumbfounded.

Angelo nods. “He came over and told me that he loves you, and that he wants you to go with him. And I said it was ultimately up to you, but if you decided to go, then it would be fine with me. I just wanted to wait to hear from you first, to see what it was you wanted.”

He sighs, then pulls you into another hug. “I’ve held you back, controlled you. I’m sorry. It’s time you go out and be a young woman, live your life with whoever you want. Don’t worry about being a DeLuca, worry about being who you want to be.”


	10. Chapter 10

You’re finishing packing up in your bedroom when there’s a knock on your door.

You immediately grab the bills from your bed, assuming it’s the pizza guy.

You’re pleasantly surprised to see that it’s Shawn, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a grocery bag in the other.

The Mendes family leaving in about a week, and these past few days you had been working up the courage to speak to Shawn and apologize about the fight, but nothing happened. Since you tied up all of your loose ends with your family and your jobs last week, all that was left was to tell Shawn you’d made up your mind. You just didn’t know how you were going to do it, since he wasn’t at his home anymore.

Now that he’s on your doorstep, it looks like you’ve got seconds to figure it out.

“Can I come in?” He asks quietly. You take in his appearance - disheveled curls, wrinkled shirt, grey sweats, heavy set bags under his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, like he’s been driving himself crazy.

You step to the side, allowing him to come in where he takes a seat on the couch. You shut the door quietly behind him, watching as he places the flowers and grocery bag on your coffee table, then takes a look around the room.

“What’s in the bag?” You ask, taking a seat next to him.

He hands you the flowers first, and you take them, taking an appreciative sniff before setting them aside. “I bought you dinner. Bought us dinner. So we could talk?”

You nod, and he looks around at your bare walls and shelves. “Where is everything?” He murmurs, turning to look at you.

You shrug. “Most of it’s gone to Goodwill, or shelters. Whatever I’m not keeping I’m giving away.”

He raises a brow, and for a split second you see hope flash in his eyes. “Why are you getting rid of your stuff? Are you moving?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I’ve got a house in Italy, so.”

There’s a quiet pause before he launches himself at you, arms wrapping around you and pulling you into a tight hug as he sobs in relief into your shoulders. You can’t help the tears that leave you either, and you gather the fabric of his shirt in your fist, pulling him closer.

You’ve both been reasonably stupid about this, but it’s over now.

“I’m sorry for being so dramatic.” He whispers into your neck.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t want to be with you.” You say.

“So you’ll do it? You’ll go with me to Italy?”

You laugh softly. “Of course I will. I said I’d go anywhere with you and I meant it.”

-

Niall cried when Shawn told him they were leaving after speaking with Agent Connolly.

Niall cried even harder when Shawn handed over The Ring for Niall to own completely, along with enough funds to cover the expenses of the place as well as a little something extra for Niall to have for himself.

You can’t lie - you cried a little too when you hugged Niall goodbye, but you knew it wasn’t the end. Shawn was serious about making The Ring into a franchise - in London, Italy, Ireland, and of course, Cape May.

“We’re not done with business yet.” He told Niall, before giving him the keys, and putting Niall’s name on the office door.

You signed over your portion of the boutique to Hailee and Jourdan, and they cried too. You couldn’t be as honest with them as you were with Niall, but deep down you felt like they understood. They wished you the best, and you promised you’d see them again one day in Cape May.

You and Shawn spent the remaining week packing up the last of your houses, and with three days until you were set to leave, Leo and Mathias came over to help you pack up the last of your things so you could send them ahead to your Nonno’s house in Italy.

They brought boxes of pizza and mozzarella sticks and bottles of soda, a movie playing as the four of you settled down after hours of packing.

You’re exhausted, so you fell asleep quickly into the movie, head resting in Shawn’s lap while he played with your hair.

Above your quiet snores, Leo nudges Shawn with his knee.

“Take care of her.” Leo says. “She loves you, a lot. And this is something that’s gonna help her be the brave and adventurous person she’s always been. Don’t take advantage of that.”

“I won’t.” Shawn promises, looking down at you, his heart swelling with love at your peaceful state.

“You’d better not.” Mathias says, smirking. “We may be children of mafia bosses but we have our own resources too, you know.”

-

There’s a gentle touch on your back, fingertips trailing up and down your bare spine. You can feel the sunlight creeping in through the blinds of your room, and his warm lips pressing gentle kisses against your shoulder.

“ _Buongiorno amore mio_.” He whispers against your skin.

You laugh weakly, head still buried in the pillow, body aching from the intense sex you had the night before.

“You’re Portuguese, not Italian.” You tease.

He bites down playfully on your shoulder. “I can say it in Portuguese if you’d like.  _Bom dia meu amor_.”

You finally turn over, facing Shawn, smiling at how his curls stick up in every direction, noticing the scratch marks from your nails on his chest and the littering of bruises you sucked into his collarbone and neck.

You smirk a little, and he narrows his eyes at you playfully. “Don’t be proud of yourself right now. I have to wear a hoodie to hide this from my mother thanks to you.”

You shrug, “You could always just not. And wear a regular shirt. It’ll cover this.” You say, gently gliding your fingers over the marks on his collarbone. You pause when you see what he means. The marks do go pretty far up his neck. “Oh,” you giggle, and Shawn groans, rolling over to crush you under his body weight.

“I can’t believe you’re making me wear a hoodie our first full day Italy.”

You utter out a response, but because he’s on top of you, he can’t really hear you. He lifts himself up so you can repeat yourself. “Especially since it’s unpacking day and you’re gonna sweat.”

You turn your head to see his reaction, and he’s frowning hard at you. “You’re right. I  _do_  have to wear a shirt.” He flops back down on the bed next to you, groaning.

He peeks an eye open at you. “Do you have makeup by any chance?”

You raise a brow at him. “Shawn, I don’t wear makeup. You know this.”

He groans again, more dramatic this time. “Damn you and your natural beauty.”

You sit up a little, groaning at the ache in your muscles. “Your sister has makeup though, I can go ask her.”

“My sister wears makeup?”

You roll your eyes. “She’s fifteen, Shawn. Now get up, you promised your mom you’d make breakfast this time.”

You and the Mendes family had landed in Italy the other night, but jet lag had gotten the best of all of you. You’d all been sleeping most of it off, and the only room in the home that was unpacked and taken care of was the kitchen. The house itself was mostly furnished with furniture Karen had bought ahead of time, including furniture she had you pick out for you and Shawn’s room.

She ran it by you first, not wanting to impose, but you just shrugged your shoulders. “It may be my house but we all live there, whatever makes you feel comfortable, I say go ahead.”

When you landed, you spent most of the day giving them the tour and getting all of your belongings inside, before going on a grocery run together, then coming home to unpack the kitchen. Karen allowed the family one day of rest before everything needed to be unpacked and put away.

You and Shawn moved into the room you’ve dubbed as “yours” since you were a kid. You always loved it because it felt like you had your own wing of the castle. It’s far away enough from the other rooms that it’s like you and Shawn have your own little place, enough to know his family is close, but far enough that he can have his space.

As much as you thought you’d miss your family, you still feel connected to them a little, given that you’re in your family’s house. You know for a fact Leo and Mathias will probably join you in Italy if it comes down to it. They loved your Nonno’s house growing up, and it’s been a few months since you’ve all been to Genoa together.

As you watch Shawn get ready from your place in bed, you can’t help but smile at the thought that maybe it’ll be fine here in Genoa. Maybe you’ll both grow to love it, and when you’re ready and things have cooled down, you’ll go back to Cape May, like you both planned.

-

Later that night, you dry off with a towel before wrapping it around you, applying your nightly moisturizer before brushing your wet hair.

Shawn comes up behind you as he steps out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist and wrapping his arm around you before shaking out his curls, getting you wet with the little droplets.

You squeal a little, backing into Shawn a bit, and he makes a happy noise. “Mmm, push back into me a little more, it’s okay.”

You turn then, kissing him quickly on the lips before heading into your room. “Not a chance, lover boy. I’m still sore from last night, so you gotta give me a minute to recover.”

You head into the closet, dropping your towel and slipping on a pair of black cheeksters and one of Shawn’s shirts, climbing into bed. Shawn lifts the covers for you to join him, clad in just his briefs and the TV on low.

Shawn pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your head. “Do you think we could be happy here?”

You nuzzle into his chest. “Of course I do.”

“As happy as we could be on Cape May?”

“Of course.” You say, pressing a kiss to his pec.

“What if we get my parents their own place here? In Genoa?”

You look up at him, kissing his jaw next. “Agent Connolly says you and your family have to stay here for at least a year and a half before moving.”

Shawn nods. “I know. But I mean after that year and a half is up. We get them their own place so you can have your grandfather’s house back. Maybe we could stay here, or go somewhere else.”

“That does sound nice.” You say. “Making a home and a life for us here.”

“Yeah. A test run before we move back to Cape May. You know? I could practice being a good boyfriend. Getting the groceries, doing the cleaning, the laundry, surprising you with new furniture or a puppy or flowers.”

“Furniture, puppies, and flowers are varying degrees of surprise.” You tease.

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone. “Good. That way you never know what you’re going to get.”

“Start with the flowers, if you’re serious about the whole surprise thing. You’re pretty good at that so far.”

Shawn nods, tightening his grip on you. “And then maybe one night, I’ll make you a romantic candle lit dinner and propose.”

You giggle, hitting him playfully on the arm as you lean back to look him in the eye. “Don’t joke about that Shawn.”

He sits up a little, back against the headboard before taking one of his arms to reach under his pillow, pulling out a little red velvet box, opening it to reveal the silver ring inside. “Who says I was joking?”


End file.
